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HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL; 



OR 



A SUMMER IN EUROPE. 



BY 






^ 



MARGARET J. M. SWEAT, 

AUTHOR OF "ETHEL'S LOVE LIFE." 




BOSTON: 

w 

WALKER, WISE, AND COMPANY. 

18 5 9. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 

WALKER, WISE, AND COMPANY, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 






University Press, Cambridge : 
Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, and Company. 



PREFACE. 



The following pages embody the experience 
of a four months' journey over the beaten 
track of pleasure travellers in Europe. To 
most travelled Americans, every step of the 
way must of course be familiar. Not on 
that account, however, will it necessarily be 
tedious, for it is the prerogative of the Old 
World to command exhaustless interest from 
the inhabitants of the New. There is some- 
thing fresh in every description of its famous 
places, and some new link in the chain of 
associations may be added by the chance 
words of the most rapid traveller. A pros- 
pect varies with the angle from which it is 
regarded, and the light beneath which it is 



IV PREFACE. 

viewed. No two persons will describe it in 
precisely the same* terms, or bring away from 
it the same impression. Only from the ac- 
cumulation of several descriptions can one 
who has not beheld it obtain a just concep- 
tion of it as a whole. 

It is hoped that the present volume may 
be of some value to those who, having visited 
the scenes of which it treats, have yet neg- 
lected to set down their impressions, and that 
for those who have not seen them it may 
help to make more distinct the mental pic- 
tures they possess of foreign countries. 

Portland, October, 1859. 



HIGHWAYS OF TRAYEL. 



CHAPTER I. 

Generalities and Particularities of Travelling. — Commotion of Depart- 
ure. — Passage from New York to Havre. — Experiences on board 
Ship. — English Channel. — Return of Land Influences, and Prepara- 
tions for Active Exertion. 

A voyage to Europe is, in these days, so common 
an occurrence, that its mention slips into conversa- 
tion almost unnoticed. Travelling seems to be the 
rule of life, — for Americans especially, — and stay- 
ing at home the exception. We stare at the man 
who has never been out of his native town ; but he 
who has been over half the world has, to most 
young observers, only accomplished what they 
themselves meditate doing when they shall have 
more time and more money. Now that the ends 
of the earth arc familiar to so many, Europe seems 
almost like our neighbor's garden which we over- 
look from our chamber-window every morning. 
Crossing the Atlantic is a thing requiring, to one 
l A 



2 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

who does it, only half a day of preparation and five 
minutes for leave-takings ; to those who remain at 
home, the traveller seems hardly out of sight before 
his name appears in the list of " Arrivals by the 
last Steamer." His own life in the mean time, how- 
ever, has doubtless been crowded with exciting 
incidents. For after all allowance has been made 
for the ease and frequency of the operation, and for 
the outside similarities of the journey, there remain 
numerous differences which cause it to be an indi- 
vidual matter to the traveller himself, and supply 
for him an element of freshness and of zest even' 
in passing over the best known routes. Most trav- 
ellers, too, can say something of what they have 
seen, which interests others. To those who have 
been over the same ground, the story suggests a 
thousand pleasant reminiscences ; to those who have 
not, it brings a welcome addition to the pictures 
with which their minds are stored, or at least deep- 
ens their impression and freshens the colors with 
which they are painted. 

In visiting the cities of Europe, this is especially 
true ; for although their galleries of painting and 
sculpture, their cathedrals and their monuments, 
their climate and their people, their gayeties and 
their glooms, have all been described and re- 
described so long, they never are and never can be 
quite exhausted. One who goes among their be- 



MENTAL PREPARATION. 3 

wildering and endless attractions is tempted to set 
down the impressions which they make upon him, 
and, finding that much remains untold by others, 
feels that he has at least a chance to say a few 
fresh words upon topics, which, before he was 
brought in personal contact with them, he would 
have declared already worn out. The very best 
thing any one who intends to enjoy a journey him- 
self can do, is to read all that he can find in regard 
to the places he is to visit, and the simplest and most 
unpretending relation of an eyewitness possesses 
some value in building up the general amount of 
knowledge of places and events, which is to prepare 
liim to look about him with appreciative interest. 
Do what he will in this way, he must always find 
much in regard to which he has remained ignorant, 
and which obliges him to take a portion of his trav- 
elling time to brighten up or to increase his knowl- 
edge of circumstances and of histories, in order 
thoroughly to enjoy what he has seen to-day or is 
to look at to-morrow. 

The more minute and the more extensive his 
reading and study have been, the more delightful 
will his personal experience be. The more pic- 
tures he has examined at home, whether they be 
of scenery or events, the more ready will he be 
to detect the beauties of the spot from which the 
view was taken, or to reproduce in his imagination 



4 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

the historical incident which makes the ground on 
which he stands famous. Familiarity with copies of 
celebrated paintings prepares us to measure more 
accurately the height to which genius has attained 
in the original, and even the statistical and geo- 
graphical information which, it may he, was as dry 
hones in the acquiring, becomes instinct with life 
when we can localize its figures and fill up its out- 
lines. Even the knowledge of the names of streets 
in a city becomes a source of increased satisfaction, 
and the recognition of a tradesman's name, which 
we have seen upon our scissors or. our letter-paper, 
gives a pleasant motion to our thought. 

And so we hold it excusable for those who will 
take the trouble: to prepare an account of their 
greater or lesser wanderings over the earth, to add 
what they can to the already immeasurable quantity 
of information in regard to what they have seen in 
their journeyings. With no farther preface there- 
fore, or explanation, we enter on. the pleasant labor 
of drawing from a journal kept with some care dur- 
ing the summer of 1855, which was spent in a rapid 
tour over a few of the countries of Europe, the de- 
tails of an experience full of enjoyment in the pass- 
ing and of satisfaction in the retrospect. 

The time allotted for our absence, being limited 
by uncontrollable circumstances, obliged us to deter- 
mine beforehand what we would attempt to see and 



COMMOTION OF DEPARTURE. 5 

do, and to lay aside all vague wishes and tantalizing 
possibilities in the matter. The Continent holding- 
out attractions of wider and more pressing signifi- 
cance than England, we determined on losing no 
time on our way thither, and therefore took passage 
in the steamer " North Star " direct from New York 
to Havre. This precluded the necessity of crossing 
the English Channel more than once, and to those 
who have enjoyed that privilege, our arrangement 
cannot well fail to recommend itself. 

On Saturday, the 9th of June, we find ourselves 
on board the stanch little steamer, and become part 
and parcel of the hubbub and confusion which attend 
the hour of departure. Standing upon deck, we look 
with amused dismay upon the apparently inextrica- 
ble perplexity of the arrangements. Will order ever 
be brought out of this chaos ? Will all these men 
and horses retain their lives and limbs through this 
warfare, — and will not all those that ought to be 
on shore when the steamer leaves bo on board, and 
those that should be on board be left disconsolate 
upon the land ? Are they not bringing up from the 
vessel's depths the very articles that they have just 
now, with infinite trouble and labor, carried down ? 

But we grow accustomed to the commotion, and 

having peeped into our state-room, and ascertained 

beyond a reasonable doubt that our own luggage 

has found a resting-place, we begin to have faith in 

1 * 



6 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

the processes before us, and to believe that something 
will come of it after all. We watch the groups upon 
the shore and on the steamer, and strive to guess at 
the little story that belongs to each, and which the 
stress of the occasion brings out into more than usual 
visibility. Our own partings were chiefly over two 
or three days ago, and we have a somewhat sorrow- 
ful leisure to look upon those of strangers. There 
is enough to see and enough to hear, and the mix- 
ture of the ludicrous with the pathetic prevents us 
from becoming seriously affected. Some of the peo- 
ple that are to stay at home are crying because they 
cannot go, and some who go are doing the same 
thing because they wish to stay at home. Some are 
laughing because others laugh, and some really seem 
to smile only because their companions weep. Some 
look business-like, as if they had matters of impor- 
tance to attend to when they reach their destination, 
and others look careless, as if, with Toots, it was all 
" of no consequence." Then there are the loud wit- 
ticisms or the louder oaths of the porters, the by-play 
of the lounging, mischievous boys, the hags with 
oranges and lemons stretching out their arms with 
their golden wares, the creaking of ropes, the rum- 
bling of the suppressed steam, all which sounds unite 
in one vast discord till the air is weary of the clamor. 
Just as the plank is lifting from its place, and the 
last loiterer has been sent on shore, a carriage drives 



LAST MOMENTS. 7 

furiously down the wharf, a series of telegraphic sig- 
nals is gone through with by the occupant, and before 
the horses have stopped in their career, a man pushes 
open the carriage-door with eager hurry and frantic 
gestures. Thrusting the crowd aside, he with a 
short run and quick leap clears the space between 
him and the deck, and lands amid the astonished 
passengers, leaving his trunks to follow with more 
care and circumspection. He eiidently considers 
himself a person of importance, and it is apparent 
that in. his own judgment grave consequences are 
involved in his going to Europe at this precise junc- 
ture. He presently retires, in close consultation 
with the clerk. 

The last bell is rung, the last rope coiled, the 
orange-women draw in their reluctant arms, the 
pale faces grow paler and the tears fall faster from 
the eyes that grieve, the heavy booming of the sig- 
nal-gun breaks harshly on the noonday air, the 
steamer swings slowly round, and the opportunity 
for retracing our steps is over. Something like a 
temptation to do so hovered around us as the possi- 
bility and propriety of it grew less and less, but 
henceforth there are no more backward glances for 
us, — only a firm and steady gaze into the future, a 
keen and ready perception of the present. 

When we have left the noise of the city behind 
us, we watch the receding shore till it melts in the 



8 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

distance, and look abroad over the waters as they 
gleam in the glorious sunshine. The summer noon 
is beautiful, the air is soft and warm, the clouds 
dare not show their faces, and the gentle breeze 
utters only a pleasant prophecy for our voyage. 
The passengers, now winnowed from all outsiders, 
assemble upon the deck to luxuriate in the few 
hours of smooth sailing and to speculate upon each 
other preparatory to making mutual acquaintance. 
We amuse ourselves in this way for a little while, 
and are surprised at the variety of nations repre- 
sented in the little community in which for the 
present our lot is cast. Yonder stands a group of 
dark-browed Spaniards, — the slight girlish figure 
with the downcast eyes must be a bride, and the 
pale man, with the coal-black beard, the bridegroom. 
It is said to be matter of historic fact, that no Euro- 
pean steamer ever makes a summer voyage without 
at least one bride on board, — the philosophic mean- 
ing of which circumstance let him who can, expound. 
It may bo taken as a pleasant symbol of the fair 
hopes and bright anticipations which accompany us 
mortals when we set out on most of our voyages 
over the sea of life. The fat old lady — fat and ugly, 
as most Spanish women are when youth is past — is 
the bride's mother ; and there are two or three other 
persons hovering about them whose precise position 
is to us undefinable. We cannot learn more of this 



OUR FELLOW-PASSENGERS. 9 

group than our eyes tell us, for we do not under- 
stand Spanish, and they may be at this moment com- 
menting upon our inquisitive glances. As we are 
none the wiser for their remarks, we let them pass, 
whatever tone they may take. At a little distance, 
a couple of Frenchwomen, whose manners and elab- 
orate toilettes suggest millinery as their probable 
profession, are sputtering vehemently ; the intervals 
in which their high treble voices pause for want of 
breath, are filled up by the heavy bass of several 
yellow-haired Germans '. close behind them.. An in- 
telligent-looking young man sitting meditatively in 
an arm-chair is a Norwegian. Some English ladies 
farther off are recognizable by their florid complex- 
ions, flounced dresses, and by the enormous brooches 
with which they shield their bosoms from the blast. 
Fine, healthy-looking women they are too, and make 
strong contrast to their poor little cousins this side 
of the Atlantic. The rest of the passengers are 
jDrobably Americans, having lost the peculiar char- 
acteristics by which their country may be . safely 
guessed at. '. There are no people so difficult to locate 
nationally as Americans who move about the world, 
and catch with facility a little from each country's 
coloring. We feel decidedly pleased, however, to 
find that the only beautiful woman on board is un- 
mistakably an American. 

Dinner being ready before we are out of smooth 



10 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

water , the attendance at table is large, and the 
opening of the performance gay ; but as the meal 
proceeds, the merriment subsides, many faces grow 
pale, and the owners thereof leave their seats with 
precipitation. To our astonishment we retain our 
own equilibrium undisturbed ; probably because we 
had humbly acknowledged our liability to and dread 
of that contemptible malady, sea-sickness, and had 
meekly and gratefully accepted all the suggestions 
of our acquaintance in regard to precautions and 
remedies. We were enabled to give of our abun- 
dance to those who were in need, and who of course 
were like the foolish virgins, without oil in their 
lamps. 

The impression which a voyage makes upon the 
mind must vary with the temperaments of individ- 
uals, and, above all, must receive decided coloring 
from the sea-sick or non-sea-sick experiences which 
accompany it. To those who are victims of the 
distressing malady, all becomes annoying and irritat- 
ing; the days and nights pass by in weary longing 
for the far-off land, and the nausea of the physical 
nature tinges all the mental emotions. But to 
those who are free from this affliction, a voyage, in 
spite of the vague tedium of which you are always 
more or less conscious, may be a very pleasant 
affair. There is a delicious repose about the life on 
board ship, that contrasts agreeably with the busy 



IMPRESSIONS OF THE VOYAGE. 11 

life on land. The quiet monotony is soothing, after 
the rush of preparation and the hurry of departure. 
It is an involuntary pause in the flow of life's noisy 
current, which enables a thoughtful person to dis- 
cover which way the stream is tending, and by what 
it is passing, with a certainty almost unattainable 
amid the distractions of ordinary life. It is enjoyed 
by us all the more lingeringly because we know 
that it can last but a little while, and must be 
followed by whirling movement and varying excite- 
ment. Responsibility is laid aside ; there are no 
active duties claiming fulfilment, no engagements 
to be met with exact punctuality, no visitors to in- 
trude upon our lounging privacy when we choose to 
shut the door of our state-room, and no solitude can 
be more complete than that within our reach. If 
one only knows how to bear with equanimity certain 
minor discomforts inseparable from a sea-voyage, 
and to seize the many peculiar pleasures it affords, 
the time it occupies will seem neither too long nor 
too idle. 

In twenty-four hours we are fairly at sea, and 
the realities of the voyage assert themselves in many 
ways. The smooth waters are exchanged for a 
plunging sea, and the Atlantic is lively enough to 
prove a bad joke for most of the passengers. The 
table is deserted, and we meet a most unhappy-look- 
ing set of beings painfully promenading the upper 
deck, besides beholding an involuntary surrender to 



12 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

circumstances on the part of some who were brave 
sailors yesterday. We see signs in the sky of an 
approaching storm, and congratulate ourselves on 
the good reputation of our ship, and the waves get 
higher and higher, and the wind pipes louder and 
louder, till we are tossed about in a most undigni- 
fied manner ; and, concluding that " discretion is 
the better part of valor," we retire to our state-room, 
where our evolutions may at least be conducted on 
a more private and circumscribed scale. Nobody 
remains in the public portions of the steamer, an4 
the crew have undisputed possession of the decks 
and stairways. For many hours the gale was terri- 
ble, and we were knocked about in our berths like 
so many shuttlecocks. 

The peril during a portion of this time was im- 
minent, and we had ample opportunity to divest our- 
selves of the picturesque charm supposed to charac- 
terize a storm at sea, and to contemplate its more 
practical tendencies. Darkness and gloom, cold and 
discomfort, danger and helplessness, were the pre- 
vailing ideas of that time, and though we were free 
from the added agony of physical torments, which 
a wail of woe occasionally informed us was making 
matters worse in the neighboring rooms, the recol- 
lection is most unsavory unto us. The servants who 
brought us our meals — for, to the shame of our ro- 
mance be it confessed, we did eat, and in a moment 
of delirium actually amused ourselves with nuts and 



STORM AND SUNSHINE. 13 

raisins — wore a most lugubrious expression, and 
one of them finally took down our life-preservers, 
and, finding one out of order, brought us another, 
blown up and ready for use. It did not appear to 
much advantage by the light of the circumstances, 
and if it were all one had to depend on in those 
dreadful ocean-waves, the quicker one abandoned it, 
and resigned himself to the cold and wrathful waters, 
the better. Fortunately for us, the decision was not 
necessary, for after a day and two nights the storm 
mbated, and we were still in safety in our berths. 
Another morning saw us joyfully wending our way 
once more to the open air, and a sunny heaven bade 
us forget that it was ever otherwise than serene. 

The days wear on, and the voyage draws to a close. 
It has been a pleasant though uneventful one. We 
have an established routine, into which all on board 
have fallen. We alternate our seasons of retirement 
with others of pleasant intercourse. We sit upon the 
deck in dreamy communion with the sea, we read 
or talk as the mood prompts, or we assemble in the 
ladies' cabin for general merry-making. The weather 
is delightful, the ocean like a lake over which the 
vessel floats as a swan. There are sunsets to gaze 
at till the whole soul is steeped in poetic languor ; 
there are stars to watch for, as they come out one by 
one into the evening sky, and a young moon, that 
steps timidly forth to gaze over the wide waters and 

2 



14 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

make them fair beneath her tender rays ; there are 
phosphorescent gleams, which blaze at our side as 
the night grows dark ; and there are bright and 
glorious dawns, which, alas for our indolence ! we 
seldom come forth to see. There are games on 
deck at the hour of twilight, and songs from those 
who can sing as the evening wears on. And there 
grows up among the passengers a courteous daily 
life, and pleasant words pass from mouth to mouth. 
There is a general independence of action too, 
quite refreshing and convenient; the strict eti- 
quette of conventional rules is dispensed with ; we 
speak to those we are attracted by, and keep silence 
with those to whom we are indifferent ; when we 
are tired of reading or talking, we stop and take a 
nap, without any rudeness intended or received. We 
go and come as we please, Wear whatever makes us 
comfortable, and form, on the whole, a somewhat 
amusing little community. Industrious young ladies 
bring out purses and slippers in process of construc- 
tion, and work thereon in an abstracted manner, as if 
to suggest that they have " a male friend " some- 
where in the distance. Others make use of the 
limited flirting accommodations which the circum- 
stances allow, under the impression, perhaps, that 
" a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." 
The old ladies sit in the rocking-chairs and talk 
over their present ailments and their past afflictions, 



ON BOARD SHIP. 15 

— the latter seeming to be the favorite subject, — 
and those passengers who still remain sea-sick creep 
out and lie upon the sofas without motion or speech. 
Little children rush merrily and noisily about, — 
they are rarely sea-sick, — and have astonishing ap- 
petites. Men pace the deck every day, some with 
the energy of complete self-possession, others with 
pale faces and compressed lips, striving to subdue 
the malady they despise. Then we have some fear- 
fully foggy nights, when you cannot trace the out- 
line of your hand held before your face, — when the 
captain does not go to bed, and all the lady passengers 
become nervous. On one of these nights we escape 
almost by miracle from being injured by a vessel 
which crosses our path, and for a moment the recol- 
lection of the poor Arctic, lost in these very waters, 
looms up into ghastly proportions. There are rough, 
windy times too, when people fall backwards out of 
their seats, or measure their length on the floor, 
and the dishes and bottles dance jigs upon the 
tables, and the ultimate destination of soup and 
vegetables becomes matter of great uncertainty. 
And so the days and the nights go by, and a crys- 
tallizing process is gone through, by which the affin- 
ities of the passengers are developed ; coteries begin 
to be formed, and it looks as if the prolonging of 
the voyage would establish a very pretty specimen 
of aristocratic and democratic antagonisms. 



16 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

Wednesday . — This morning the intelligence greets 
lis that we are in the English Channel, and soon we 
see a long, low, cloudy line, which those who know 
call land. The Channel is calm as a summer morn : 
heaven and earth are in a beneficent mood, and the 
calm blue of the sky above is only equalled by that 
of the waves below. Sails flit across the horizon like 
white doves : and vessels grow numerous about us. 
To-night the beacons of La Heve will be in sight ; 
to-morrow the shore of France will be beneath our 
feet. The voyage is ending, land influences steal 
over us, and energy, unknown of late, circulates in 
our veins. Talking grows louder, as plans of im- 
mediate movement are discussed on all sides ; maps 
and hand-books are consulted, advice asked, and 
opinions given. Partisans for particular routes grow 
eloquent in praise of their favorite localities, and 
listeners get bewildered among so many contradic- 
tory accounts. All the merry bets are decided, the 
wine-bills are settled, the empty bottles flung into 
the sea with bursts of merriment as empty as them- 
selves, and a sort of carnival prevails on board, as 
testimony of the general exhilaration. We can 
hardly help regretting the delicious indolence of 
this last decade, and wish it might have continued 
longer, with its nameless charms. We have grown 
into this way of life with delightful facility, and the 
sweet inertia has permeated our very souls. 



CHAPTER II. 

Port of Havre. — Hotel de l'Europe. — Walks about the City. — First 
Sleep on Terra Firma. — Railway to Eouen. — Arrival there, and Ex- 
ploration of its Churches and Antiquities. — Mount St. Catharine, and 
View of the City and the Seme. — St. Ouen by Moonlight. — Depart- 
ure for Paris. 

Once more on land, the memories connected with 
our floating home grow vague and unsubstantial. 
We look back on our sea experiences with quiet 
pleasure, however, and somewhat unwillingly grant 
them the comparative oblivion they demand, now 
that the present is crowded with activities utterly 
uncongenial to the dreamy indolence of the voyage. 
We have bidden good-by to nearly all the passen- 
gers with whom we made acquaintance, and who are 
now wending their way over widely different routes 
to their various destinations. A few linger, like our- 
selves, to look about the city of Havre, and to rest 
from the fatigues of the voyage ; but most of them 
are soon far away, with the exception of the Span- 
ish party, which has probably gone to bed, for 
the voyage was very trying to them, and on their 
last appearance in public they made a sorry show. 



18 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

Heaven send them all a good nap and better tempers ! 
The whole tableau of the last eleven days is dis- 
solved : the actors in the brief drama have played 
their several parts, and are now dispersed to the 
four winds of heaven, never to meet together again. 
The sweet season of indolence is over, the monotony 
of the sea must give place to the variety of the land, 
and we slide into new circumstances with more or 
less regret for the old. 

But our present comfortable quarters at the Hotel 
de l'Europe were not attained merely by turning 
over the leaf which separates Chapter I. from Chap- 
ter II. On the contrary, many movements and 
counter-movements intervened, and we must go back 
to the evening when, though close by the inviting 
shores, we were obliged for many hours to be con- 
tent with only the sight thereof. To ourselves this 
delay was matter of small moment, but to many on 
board it was vexatious in the extreme. This delay 
was caused by the peculiar character and strict reg- 
ulations of the port of Havre, which is, by the way, 
decidedly the most interesting feature of the place. 
Walled in and fortified, narrow and tortuous, the 
three basins through which entrance is obtained to 
the inner port resemble a huge canal divided by 
massive gates. The variations of the tide are so 
great, that only for about four hours in the twenty- 
four — two at each turning of the tide — can large 



GETTING INTO PORT. 19 

vessels enter the inner port. The regulations are 
extremely arbitrary. The gates are closed at night, 
as if a hostile fleet might steal in under cover of the 
darkness, and though we reached the outer harbor 
at eleven in the evening, we found the gates shut, 
and were obliged to remain at anchor till noon next 
day. The more impatient passengers took advantage 
of the little sail-boats that hovered around us to go 
on shore without luggage, but we, being of a more 
indolent turn, remained by the good old steamer. 

The getting into port is quite an undertaking, — 
is superintended by a number of uniformed officials, 
and accompanied by much French chatter and ges- 
ticulation. But the tiresomeness of the process is 
alleviated for a stranger by the novelty of it, and the 
time passes not unpleasantly — if one is willing to 
be amiable when impatience is useless — in looking 
at and commenting upon the many odd sights. We 
found ample amusement in searching out everything 
that was worth notice to our untra veiled eyes. The 
tall warehouses that line the quays rear their lofty 
fronts as if the wealth of the whole Indies were piled 
within; the massive stone walls, that form the shore 
line, are in harmony with the threatening forts which 
frown upon us close at hand ; the narrow gateways 
open upon us like mouths which would fain swallow 
us, and crowds of queerly-dressed people stand upon 
the shore, and gaze at us as if we were a band of 



20 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

cannibals fresh from the Fiji Islands. A black-robed 
priest, with enormous shoe-buckles and cocked hat, 
moves across the scene, followed by a little band of 
neophytes, who strive to appear superior to all idle 
curiosity. A few soldiers, with dirty uniforms and 
faded epaulettes, swagger along, and knots of women, 
with tall white caps and dainty little aprons, stand 
laughing and chatting together in the cool air. The 
wind is keen and the sky gray, and though it is the 
middle of June, many a shiver creeps over us as we 
land in " sunny France." At length we touch the 
landing-place, deliver our passports to the authori- 
ties, and shake ourselves into the conviction that we 
are again on terra fir ma. It takes us many hours 
to become accustomed to having matters about us 
at rest, and to walk without seizing hold of anything 
to steady ourselves by. 

We find, by reference to our Hand-book, that 
Havre was the birthplace of Bernardin St. Pierre, 
of Mdlle. de Scuderi, and of Madame de Lafayette, 
— all, as we are aware, famous novelists. We look 
in vain for anything which could have ministered 
to the imagination or romantic faculty in this busy, 
but not very picturesque town. It is from the sea 
alone that they could have drunk inspiration. The 
houses of the city itself are tall, and without variety 
or beauty of architecture ; the streets are narrow 
and badly paved. The environs, however, are pretty, 



CAFE GUICHARD. 21 

and the houses outside of the town have charming 
gardens about them. The ancient walls of the city 
have been levelled by Louis Napoleon, and are con- 
verted into Boulevards. 

Probably few who dined at the Cafe Guichard 
that day were better prepared than we to appreciate 
the materiel of the dinner, and the style in which 
it was served. To those just wearied out by the 
fade viands of a steamer, where the bill of fare is 
stereotyped upon one's memory till one sickens at 
thought of it, the fresh soup, the fried sole, the 
dainty oysters, and the delicate chicken appear a 
banquet for the gods. The thin wines sharpen the 
appetite at the moment it begins to flag, and one is 
insensibly beguiled into eating an amount and a 
variety, which, if prophesied but a day before, would 
have been declared impossible. The crowning at- 
traction of the dinner, however, is in the delicious 
vegetables. The snowy potatoes, the delicate haricots 
verts , the luscious pease, and the melting cauliflower, 
follow each other, and demand each a taste, while 
the dessert of dainty French impossibilities and inde- 
scribabilities asserts its claims successfully. In fact, 
the whole affair is got up so prettily, that there is no 
excuse for grumbling at the bill, which, by the way, 
is large enough to prove that even in France, where 
taste is supposed to be the spontaneous production 
of the soil, one cannot have prettinesses for nothing. 



22 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

Our largo and gloomy apartment at the hotel 
furnished us with infinite amusement, as we exam- 
ined all its antiquities. Its atmosphere, however, 
was highly conducive to sleep, and the relief after 
the tossing uncomfortableness of the voyage was 
very refreshing. 

In the morning, after a delicious cup of coffee and 
a breakfast altogether a fit pendant to the dinner 
of the day before, we took a farewell stroll about 
the streets, and then returned to prepare for the 
continuance of our journey. Before starting, we of 
course obtained from the magnificent young lady 
at the comptoir the " little account," which amused 
our inexperience not a little, as we pondered over 
the intricacies of our first French bill. Every one 
who has travelled is aware that foreign charges are 
made on totally different principles from those in- 
volved in our American process of boarding and 
lodging an individual. Items are divided and sub- 
divided into a minuteness of separate existence, 
charges, which to the uninitiated might seem to in- 
clude each other, start up into isolated distinctness, 
till you wonder how it was possible that you could 
have made use of so many things in so short a time, 
and almost regret having been the cause of so much 
trouble to so many obliging attendants. All these 
matters are set forth in wandering hieroglyphics 
upon a long and narrow strip of paper, nothing on 



HAVRE AND ROUEN RAILWAY. 23 

which is fairly legible but the sum total. This, 
however, is always made distinct to your percep- 
tions, no matter how slight your knowledge of the 
language may be, or how little conversant with 
the precise value of the coinage of that portion of 
country you may have become. 

This important matter being finally settled to the 
satisfaction of one party and the amusement of the 
other, we mounted into the high omnibus, and rat- 
tled over the old pavements to the Debarcadere of 
the Havre and Rouen railway. After going through 
all the hubbub and chatter incident to such an occa- 
sion, we found ourselves luxuriously accommodated 
in softly cushioned and padded cars, the only objec- 
tion to which was, that we were locked in, and had 
that feeling so objectionable to an American, that 
our " area of freedom " was, for the time being, de- 
cidedly circumscribed. We forgot all this, however, 
as we rolled along through the fertile and smil- 
ing country. The little farms and gardens were 
in their holiday dress, and flowers seemed to fill ev- 
ery nook, and to smile upon us out of every hiding- 
place. The little cottages, with thatched or red- 
tiled roofs, had their windows and doors open, their 
gardens gay with flowers, and their little children — 
or at least their hens and chickens — moving about 
and giving life to the scene. Each looked as if 
arranged with a view to form a pretty picture, not 



24 HIGHWAYS OP TEAVEL. 

as if merely for the prosaic uses of every-day life. 
Even the weeds were in gala costume, and I have 
seldom seen anything more brilliant than a large 
patch of scarlet poppies, striving to outnumber and 
outstare a mass of mustard-blossoms amid which 
they grew, close by the railway track. And always 
among the fields of waving grain might be seen 
these blood-red poppies, quivering in the breeze like 
tremulous darting flames, and lighting up the dis- 
tance with their vivid glow. The sun shone with an 
unclouded splendor, and blazed upon the rapidly 
changing scene till hill and valley, river and forest, 
were revealed and illumined. 

We glided along, past cottages and chateaux, 
running streams and quiet valleys. Now we saw a 
shepherd sitting idly in the sunshine, while his 
watchful dog ran round the compact little flock and 
drove back all that would have wandered ; — now 
the picture was a woman and child sitting in a 
cottage doorway, with the sunlight touching up the 
roses and carnations by the window ; — and again 
the beautiful grounds and high walls about them 
prepared us for the glimpse we caught of some 
lordly chateau, whose very name was redolent of 
romance and suggestive of all chivalrous remem- 
brances. At times we hurried over lofty bridges, 
and had a bird's-eye view of the scenes far beneath, 
or we rushed into long tunnels, where we had no 



FROM HAVRE TO ROUEN. 25 

view at all excepting of each other's faces by the 
sickly light of the lamp above our heads. There 
are so many of these long tunnels upon this road, 
that a large lamp is built into the roof of each car 
and kept lighted, else the traveller would be in 
Egyptian darkness much of his time. These tunnels 
and viaducts add much to the picturesqueness and 
variety of the way ; the former are of enormous 
length, and the latter of great beauty ; the labor 
and expense of their construction have been almost 
incredible. The viaduct of Barentin, for instance, 
is 100 feet in height and numbers 27 arches, its 
length being 1500 feet, — while several of the tun- 
nels are more than a mile in length. The masonry 
of all these portions of the road is of the most elab- 
orate and substantial kind, and seems prepared to 
stand against the shock of ages. The little way- 
stations are excessively pretty, always having some 
pretension to picturesqueness or at least peculiarity 
of architecture, and are almost always surrounded 
with garden-grounds, in which roses, pinks, and 
geraniums form refreshing oases for the eye to rest 
upon. This fondness for flowers is a jileasant ele- 
ment in French daily life ; it is taken for granted 
that every one possesses it, and the taste is minis- 
tered unto with the same care that the more physi- 
cal requirements of food and drink are supplied. 
For two sous one can get a bouquet of rosebuds 

3 



26 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

and violets that gladden tlio eyes through a day's 
journey and send up refreshing fragrance to the last. 
Before our journey was half over we had our hands 
full of flowers, purchased from men, women, and 
children in all directions, and were possessed of a 
stock in trade which any marchande de fleurs might 
have envied. 

At last we reached the Pebarcadere at Rotfen. 
This is a large and admirably arranged building, or 
rather a couple of buildings standing side by side 
and between which the track is laid, the whole 
united and protected by a lofty glass roof. The order 
and discipline visible in all the arrangements of the 
railways in France are owing to their being under 
the control of the government, and present a marked 
contrast to the noisy tumult of " the sovereign peo- 
ple " so freely haunting our stations at home. The 
number also and distinctive dress of the employes, 
the minute arrangements in regard to tickets and 
luggage, and the strictness with which all outsiders 
are excluded, give the whole thing an appearance of 
military exactness, and also suggest the idea of a 
central power somewhere, from which a sufficient 
degree of authority emanates to enforce all its regu- 
lations. 

In the Grand Hotel d'Angleterre we find very 
comfortable rooms in the fourth story front, from 
which altitude we command a charming view of the 



GRAND HOTEL D'ANGLETERRE. 27 

river and the opposite shore. Beneath onr windows 
is a row of trees, clipped in such compact fashion, 
as to have lost all semblance to any denizen of the 
forest, and presenting to our downward gaze so 
smooth a bank of greenery, that we are tempted to 
jump down upon it as upon the most inviting turf. 
This bank conceals from us the passers-by beneath, 
but beyond the sidewalk we have the Quai de la 
Bourse, on which our hotel fronts, busy with its 
wayfarers and gay with various costumes. Across 
the gleaming river stretch the bridges which unite 
the two portions of the city. Upon the Pont Neuf 
we see the dark outlines of the fine statue of Pierre 
Corneillc, the glory of Rouen. Beyond the bridge, 
upon the other side of the Seine, is the Faubourg 
Saint-Sever and the beautiful Promenade du Cours, 
with its long lines of magnificent trees. After a 
long look from our windows, we turn to examine 
our more immediate neighborhood, and find con- 
tinual amusement in the queer, old-fashioned details 
of the house. We seem to be transported into one 
of Mrs. Radcliffe's romances, and are in momentary 
expectation of hearing fearful sounds from the hol- 
low walls, and of seeing a sliding panel in the high 
oaken wainscoting give ingress to a knight in armor, 
at the very least. And in truth there is some con- 
trast between the Grand Hotel d'Angleterre and 
the St. Nicholas Hotel or the Astor. The inlaid 



28 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

oaken floors, highly waxed, and visible everywhere 
save in the centre, where a small square of carpeting 
is laid ; the many doors of all sizes, from those which 
look like what they are, and give entrance to the 
room, to others, at first invisible, which open into 
useless cupboards and blind closets ; the ancient 
furniture, which has served so many travellers in 
their turn ; — all are queer and unlike our modern 
travelling accommodations. The venerable old doors 
hang upon clumsy hinges, and are adorned with 
antediluvian locks which have no handle upon the 
outside, so that, if you leave your room without the 
key thereof in your hand, you are in the predica- 
ment of those who put their keys in their trunk for 
safe-keeping, and then close it with a spring-lock. 
This shutting of the door is remedied by such awk- 
ward contrivances for reopening, that when we saw 
it done, we acknowledged that the locks were quite 
as much " up to the times " as the people. We 
spent some time in searching out the concealed doors 
in the rooms, a small key, nearly hidden by some 
friendly pattern in the paper-hangings, being usually 
the only indication of their existence. 

Our first visit was made to the beautiful church of 
St. Ouen; and were there nothing else in this rich 
old city to reward a traveller, this glorious church 
would be worthy of a long pilgrimage. It has been 
said of it, " Le moyen age n'a rien reve ni cree de 



CHURCH OF ST. OUEN. 29 

plus beau," and that it is " lo miracle de 1' archi- 
tecture gothique." And indeed he must be a rare 
dreamer* whose visions would furnish anything more 
perfect. From the beautiful outlines and immense 
proportions of the exterior, to the exquisite finish 
and graceful arrangement of the interior, where 
length and breadth and height are harmoniously 
adapted with most delicate detail and profuse orna- 
mentation, all is alike grand and beautiful. Its in- 
terior is about four hundred and fifty feet in length 
and one hundred in height, and the magnificent 
arches follow each other, and the masses of pillared 
shade are relieved by the streams of light which fall 
from the gorgeously stained windows, till the eye is 
filled with beauty and the imagination satisfied with 
grandeur. Those stained windows seem the crea- 
tion of genii, and not of mortal hands ; and surely 
fairy wings were needed to place those graceful 
mouldings far up in their aerial heights. We stood 
below the beautiful rose window immortalized by 
the sad legend of its maker, lost in admiration of its 
beauty, and almost able to imagine and excuse the 
despairing envy of the master. What was that in- 
stinct of beauty and that success of creation which 
those mediaeval artists possessed so fully ? Has it 
died with them, that modern art in vain essays to 
match them, and can but faintly imitate ? We 
lingered long within the church, and then as long 



30 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

in looking at the glorious exterior, — the front 
with its elaborate portal, recently cleansed and 
restored, the tower rising two hundred and sixty 
feet in air, and the rear view obtained to so great 
advantage from the pretty gardens of the Hotel de 
Yille. One can never forget St. Ouen, nor have its 
loveliness obscured in the recollection, by seeing 
any or all of the churches which the world calls 
famous. The charm which it exercises upon the 
imagination is unique, and arises from the exceed- 
ing harmony of outline and of detail, of proportion 
and of graceful minutiae ; not from its possessing 
any one attribute of architectural beauty in greater 
abundance than others, but because all are mingled 
and fused into the complete and finished expression 
of one thought. Standing before it, we remember 
that St. Peter's can dwarf its size without an effort, 
that Strasburg Minster can look down from a double 
height, that Milan Cathedral can outnumber by hun- 
dreds its rosettes and cornices, its statues and its 
windows ; but these things do not matter to us, for 
the eye can find in none of them a more delicious 
enjoyment or a more complete satisfaction for its 
critical examination. Though the first stone was 
laid in the far-off year 1318, yet it speaks to us 
on this day with an ever fresh voice and an ever 
unrivalled charm. 

The Cathedral of Notre Dame is the next in in- 



CATHEDRAL OF NOTRE DAME. 31 

terest to St. Ouen. The interior is filled with inter- 
esting monuments. A small lozenge-shaped tablet 
marks the spot where the lion heart of Richard 
was interred. Diana of Poitiers weeps over her 
husband's remains in marble more pure than her 
own fame. The magnificent monument of the Car- 
dinal d'Amboise, in black and white marble, is a 
marvel of workmanship. Each tablet and each 
monument, each chapel and each painting, awakens 
its own reminiscences, and calls up in the mind the 
brilliant or the sad passages of history connected 
with it. The Tour de Beurre is there to tell its 
story, which is corroborated by the time-worn walls. 
The spire of cast iron, which is more curious than 
beautiful, still lacks its apex, but when finished 
will rise to the height of four hundred and thirty- 
six feet, and form a fitting finish to the great mass 
below. 

The church of St. Maclou, though small, is full of 
beauty, and boasts a triple portal and some rich 
carving of rare merit. But it is useless to endeavor 
to do more than enumerate the objects of interest 
which delight a stranger in Rouen, and beguile him 
into a longer and yet longer stay among its relics. 
The Place de la Pucclle demands its pilgrimage ; the 
Hotel Bourgtherodc repeats the name of the Maid of 
Orleans ; the Museum of Antiquities cries out to us 
to behold yet another and another of its rare books, 



32 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

its carved cabinets, its shrines and relics, and its 
innumerable specimens of richly stained glass. Not 
a step can be taken in the city without something 
to arrest the attention starting up at every turn. 

The spacious Boulevards wear an air of repose 
and elegance which makes the houses there appear 
very homelike and attractive. The Flower-Market 
in front of the Cathedral is gorgeous as a fallen 
rainbow, in the morning hours ; the fruit-stalls over- 
flow with their tempting wares, the windows of the 
jewellers , numerous shops sparkle with diamonds 
true and false, and even the toy-shops display a 
variety and beauty that a grown man need not feel 
ashamed to find interesting. Of course the moment 
you stop before a boutique, the occupant begins 
to explain to you the superior excellence of her 
wares, and French volubility" reaches its highest 
point of perfection when she imagines she is making 
an impression on your purse. 

A walk in the soft twilight over the Pont Neuf, a 
view of the valley and the river in all the golden 
glory of sunset, and a stroll beneath the quiet shade 
of the " Cours," supplied ample materials for our 
dreams. But to o'ertop our riches in this way we 
had a moonlight view of beautiful St. Ouen, and its 
stone traceries silvered into more than fairy light- 
ness and delicacy. We wandered through the nar- 
row streets, stopping at each new object, sometimes 



DRIVE ABOUT THE CITY. 33 

a church, sometimes a dilapidated fountain with its 
group of busy water-carriers, sometimes an old 
dwelling whose weather-stained and weary look told 
of a long struggle with Father Time, or of still 
worse treatment from battle and from siege. 

In the morning we took a charming drive up 
Mont St. Catharine, from which is seen one of the 
fairest of fair prospects. The whole city lies be- 
neath, the silver Seine winds through the valley, 
the bridges span it with a graceful leap, the spires 
point heavenward, and the whole scene is full of 
beauty. 

On the summit of Mont St. Catharine stands the 
gorgeous little church of Notre Dame de bon Se- 
cours. It is, in reality, a modern edifice, but is so 
perfect an imitation of the style of the Middle Ages, 
that it is not easy to believe it a new-comer on the 
earth. The interior is literally blazing with crim- 
son and gold and blue, and the many-hued windows 
shed rays of gorgeous light upon the floor and ceil- 
ing. The glass is all from the manufactory at 
Sevres. 

We spent the morning in our visit to the moun- 
tain and in driving about the city, and at noon 
found ourselves once more in the grand Debarcadere 
waiting for the train to take us up to Paris. We 
had time to lunch satisfactorily, and to admire the 
comfortable and elegant refreshment-rooms connect- 



34 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

e& with the station, where every delicacy of the 
season may be obtained. One may have breakfast, 
dinner, or snpper at any hour his fancy may suggest, 
or he may content himself with the whitest of bread 
and the freshest of butter. 

Before long the train arrived, and the luggage and 
passengers were disposed of with the usual military 
exactness and celerity; and, obeying the pointed 
finger of the magnificent official, we took our seats, 
and were soon rattling over the road at top-speed. 



CHAPTER III. 

Route from Rouen to Paris. — Arrival at the Station. — A Parisian 
Dinner. — First Walk in Paris. — Trip to Versailles and " Les Grandes 
Eaux." 

On our way to Paris we pass several points of his- 
toric interest. There is the town of Mantes, upon 
whose walls "William the Conqueror was thrown 
from his horse ; the Chateau of Posny, the birth- 
place of Sully ; and the village of Poissy, where St. 
Louis was born, and which is now the greatest cattle- 
market in France. But Paris, the end of our jour- 
ney for the present, absorbs more of our thoughts, 
and awakens more of expectant interest in our 
minds, than anything that we pass by the way. 
When we reach the station, the immense crowd of 
passengers disperses as gently and with as little 
confusion as if it were a party of friends separating 
from each other when that which brought them to- 
gether was at an end. No noise, no crowding and 
scolding, no shouting of hackmen or quarrelling of 
porters, but all moves on and moves off with the pre- 
cision of mechanism, and there is just enough sound 
and variety to assure you that you are not specta- 



36 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

tors of mere phantoms going through unsubstan- 
tial and objectless evolutions. We found our heavy 
luggage, which had been forwarded from Havre, 
patiently awaiting us in the safe seclusion of a small 
room, and under the guidance of a friend, who came 
to the cars to meet us, and had engaged rooms for 
us, we drove directly to our hotel. The city is 
already filling up with visitors to the Exposition 
Universelle, and landlords and landladies smile at 
the prospect for the summer. 

But first, after the renovations consequent upon 
our travel-stained condition, came that performance 
so important and interesting to all right-minded 
(mens sana in corpore sand) travellers, the dinner. 
Now a Parisian dinner, being, as every one knows, 
quite unapproachable in its excellence, one may 
expatiate upon it at length, both in the eating and 
in the describing process. To appreciate and to 
delight hi French cooking, by no means implies a 
gluttonous disposition. The articles of food, though 
retaining many of the names by which mortals know 
them, are, in their progress through the hands of a 
first-rate cuisinier, so spiritualized and etherealized 
that the grosser particles disappear, and only a resi- 
due remains of which neither sylphs nor angels 
need scorn to partake. One becomes a gourmand 
easily, and with little appearance of sensuality, when 
the eye is as much gratified as the palate, and when 



A PARISIAN DINNER. 37 

the measured dignity of every movement connected 
with the repast removes all idea of rushing after 
" something to eat." The ingenious arrangement 
and provocative succession of dishes, by which the 
great variety is prevented from becoming oppressive, 
lead on from daintiness to daintiness ; the appetite 
is gently stimulated by delicate wines, renewed by 
spicy sauces, and finally gently " eased off" by tiny 
bon-bons and preserved fruit, to be smothered into a 
not disagreeable exhaustion by a fig, a raisin or two, 
and a couple of almonds. We rise at length from 
the table, satisfied but not heavy, wishing for noth- 
ing more, yet not nauseated by the remembrance of 
what " has been," nor tormented by anticipations 
of what will be in the approaching night hours. 

After dinner we started forth upon a walk which 
was to certify to us the fact of our actual presence 
in Paris. In order to unite as many striking images 
as the time would allow, w r e went first to the Place 
de la Concorde, where the soft plashing of the foun- 
tains is ever making music, and the tall Egyptian 
obelisk cutting the serene air with its clear gray 
line. Then to the Madeleine, the marvellous real- 
ization of all Greek beauty and grace, where we 
stood, silent in admiration. Returning through the 
Garden of the Tuileries, we paused before the quaint 
old palace which has seen so much of splendor and 
of sorrow, of rejoicing and of bloodshed. There is 

4 



38 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

little architectural beauty in the long, irregular 
building, and yet, as a whole, it impresses wonder- 
fully. It is, if such a word may be ascribed to an 
edifice, very suggestive in appearance, and would of 
itself indicate that it had a history worth knowing. 
The little dormer windows scattered here and there 
in the huge slated roofs, have an air of indulged in- 
quisitiveness about them, as if they had established 
their right to peer into everything that is going on 
within their range. Every one knows of the beau- 
tiful gardens which stretch away from the vast front 
of the palace to the Place de la Concorde, tilled 
with ancient trees and glowing flowers and gleam- 
ing statues and silvery fountains, alive with people 
walking about or sitting in the pleasant shade upon 
the wooden chairs which are always at your service 
in the open air in Paris. 

Emerging from the archway of the palace, we 
gave a hurried glance at the Place Carrousel and 
the new front of the Louvre, and then wandered over 
to the fascinations of the Palais Poyal, where the 
brilliant kaleidoscope of its ever-changing scenes 
kept even our tired eyes open and our tired limbs 
in motion. Crowds of people ever wandering be- 
neath those arcades, whence do ye come, and whith- 
er do ye go ? Jewels that gleam in the windows, 
whom will ye adorn, and whom will ye tempt to 
crime ? Incredible luxuries brought from all climes 



PALAIS ROYAL. 39 

to fill the windows of these restaurants, how long 
will ye tantalize the poor artisan returning from his 
almost dinnerless labor ? Do ye not remember that, 
when governments change in your facile country, 
plate-glass is powerless to protect your wares ? 
How many of all this throng, who seem to be so 
completely absorbed in the present moment, ever 
pause to look back upon the storms and changes 
of the past, or forward to the clouds which loom 
in the horizon ? We too soon lose the desire or 
the power of doing so, and find our eyes and ears 
and imagination all absorbed in the ceaseless va- 
riety and movement of the hour. 

"Wandering on still farther, we took another hasty 
and bewildering glance at the Boulevards, in all 
the busy gayety of the delicious summer evening, 
speculated upon the supposed origin and destina- 
tion of the claret-sipping and sherbet-eating crowd, 
and then strolled into the Theatre des Varietes, 
where we found, of course, excellent comic acting, 
and where, for the first time of late, our environ- 
ments seemed familiar. Theatres, like churches, 
have an atmosphere of their own, which they retain 
wherever they may chance to be ; and the union 
of sentiment and object among the people present 
opens a possible communion, for the time being, 
between persons otherwise very wide apart. A 
hearty laugh runs through a crowd with magnetic 



40 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

speed, and eyes meet almost in recognition aver a 
really irresistible joke, which never met before and 
may never meet again. The house was very full 
and the audience very enthusiastic, thus affording 
us a double amusement, first from the scenes upon 
the stage, and then from those in the boxes. At 
midnight we returned to our hotel quite satisfied 
with our day's performance. 

Next morning we went with the crowd to see 
the great fountains play at Versailles. We are 
reminded that we are in France by the circum- 
stance that this grand display only takes place on 
Sunday, and that he who will not look upon it 
then may not look upon it at all. " Les grandes 
Eaux " therefore exhibit themselves on alternate 
Sundays at Versailles and at St. Cloud, and a mag- 
nificent sight they are too, to which a hundred thou- 
sand people are sure to flock, and fill the palaces 
and the gardens thus gratuitously thrown open 
to them. Two railroads run from Paris to Ver- 
sailles, a distance of about thirteen miles, and bring 
you within the town ; a few minutes' walk through 
the old streets — in which you see much to remind 
you of historical events and prepare you for your 
day's interview with the palace and its memories 
— brings you to the enormous pile, which stands 
as a fitting monument of the pompous magnificence 
of its founder. The trains to and from the city 



PALACE OP VERSAILLES. 41 

leave at intervals of ten minutes, chasing and pass- 
ing each other in a way very suggestive of collisions 
and other accidents ; but the admirable manage- 
ment of the road makes them of really very infre- 
quent occurrence. 

One hardly knows where to begin in describing 
Versailles ; and yet so many and so interesting arc 
the images it suggests, that the impulse to set down 
some of them, and give the authority for our aston- 
ishment, by a recapitulation of the figures which 
signify its birth, and growth, and accumulation, is 
almost insurmountable. We can defend our wonder 
best by saying, in set terms, " This incredible splen- 
dor was purchased by the labor of thirty thousand 
men, and at the cost of forty millions sterling. For 
nearly two centuries monarchs have loved to adorn 
these halls and galleries, these parks and gardens. 
There is room for magnificence, for we can walk 
seven miles in-door s." A day spent among the gar- 
dens, and in the vast palace, produces at first merely 
a confused image ; but a quiet hour at home after- 
wards allows one to arrange the different memories, 
and to bring order out of chaos. When first the 
tired eyes close upon the picture, we sec only count- 
less saloons, furnished with gorgeous hangings and 
rich paintings; endless galleries, with polished floors 
and superbly-frescoed ceilings ; innumerable pic- 
tures of battles and historical events ; portraits and 



42 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 



allegories ; fair faces and terrible scenes ; intermi- 
nable paths beneath arching trees, and past statues 
and flowers, and silvery fountains ; broad stretches 
of green turf, on which the sunshine lies in loving 
stillness. In fact, during the whole day our feet 
seemed to move unconsciously along, impelled by 
the unresisted enchantment of the place, and we 
floated through the shifting scenes of marble halls 
and paths of greenness, or rested in the shade, and 
listened to the song of the birds and the laughter 
of the fountains, or paused before a statue in the 
seclusion of some pathway which it seemed to 
guard. And in the palace, we loitered through 
the uncounted rooms, and gazed at paintings of 
rarest merit, at glowing ceilings and rich tapestry, 
followed the long perspective of statuary and Sevres 
vases, and looked curiously on the ancient furniture 
of kings and queens, richer in associations even than 
in splendor of adornment. 

We stand in the chapel where the marriage of 
Marie Antoinette was solemnized, and enter each 
minor chapel where pictures and altars win our at- 
tention ; we move slowly through the eleven rooms 
whose paintings illustrate the history of the nation 
up to the era of the Revolution, and through the 
gallery, three hundred feet in length, w^here stand 
the busts and statues of the illustrious dead. In the 
beautiful theatre we remember that its inauguration 



PALACE OF VERSAILLES. 48 

was the marriage of Louis XVI., whose reign was 
in itself a sadder tragedy than was ever played upon 
its boards. In the Salon d'Hercule wc listen if, 
perchance, some echo of the eloquence of Bossuet 
may linger in the walls ; and lift our eyes in admi- 
ration in the magnificent Galerie des Glaces, where 
again we must have recourse to figures to convey 
a clear image. 242 feet in length, 35 in width, and 
43 in height, make a room of fair proportions for 
even a king's friends to assemble in. The vaulted 
ceiling glows with the colors of Lebrun ; the lofty 
windows and immense mirrors no longer light the 
merry-meetings of Louis XI V., but we seem still 
to hear the hum of voices, and the pattering of feet 
therein. One would like to be alone there at the 
midnight hour, to see if no spirits haunt the spot. 
We see the bed on which the great Louis Quatorze 
was obliged to die, like any ordinary mortal, and 
feel even stronger interest to know that from the 
balcony of this same room the poor Louis XVI., ac- 
companied by his queen and children, stepped forth 
to confront the infuriated mob that came from Paris 
on the 6th of October, 1789. There arc memories of 
Mesdames Maintenon, Montespan, Pompadour, and 
Du Barri hereabouts also, mingled with those of poor 
Marie Antoinette, and the queens of the fourteenth 
and fifteenth Louis. These reminiscences almost 
obliterate those of more recent times ; and Louis 



4-4 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 






XVIII. and Charles X. arc mere nobodies beside 
their ancestors. But we do feci some interest in 
the portraits of the great military characters of the 
Revolution ; and the stirring times of Napoleon the 
Great do leave traces of deep meaning on these 
walls. Strong contrast enough there is between this 
same Napoleon and his era, and the older magnifi- 
cent outside and worthless interior of the profligate 
courts before him ! The upper chambers of the 
palace are full of attractions of their own ; for 
the walls arc crowded with portraits of all possi- 
ble degrees of merit, forming a ludicrous melange 
indeed, but including many faces that it is a privi- 
lege and a pleasure to study. But the very attempt 
to enumerate the rooms and the attractions of the 
palace proves a failure, and we sink back exhausted 
with the effort, before we are midway in our descrip- 
tion. The crowds of famous people that have wan- 
dered here and there within these walls, — that have 
loved and suffered, have wept and made merry, in- 
trigued and lied, or done noble deeds for truth and 
honor, — claim each their thought, but fleet away 
again in swift succession. The two figures that 
remain most prominent are those of Marie Antoi- 
nette and Napoleon. The first haunts the place as 
the saddest of all sad histories ; the second fills the 
thought as a dream of heroic splendor, — as a mas- 
ter and an emperor who took his mastership and 



"THE 18TH BRUMAIRE." 45 

his empire, not from the hand of a father who laid 
down the sceptre only because he had no longer life 
wherewith to retain his hold, but from the hand of 
Nature herself, and out of the sovereignty of his 
own being. This image is reproduced upon these 
walls many times, in every variety of position and 
power. One picture of him especially attracted my 
attention, and remains fresh in my memory, not 
from any special merit in the painting, but because 
the artist has chosen so significant a moment in his 
hero's career. It is entitled, " The 18th Brumaire." 
A group of wild figures and frantic, strange faces 
crowd about Napoleon, and seem to be urging him 
on with vehement words and gestures. He stands 
pale and earnest, but motionless ; he looks, as it 
were, far into the possible future opening before 
him, and seems unconscious of the immediate ex- 
citement around him. The contrast between the 
livid paleness of his calm face, the steadiness of his 
sharp-cut lips, and the concentrated expression of 
reserved power which is manifest in his whole aspect, 
and seems to say that the hour has not found him 
unprepared, or insufficient to himself, — with the 
eager countenances and impatient movement of 
those about him, — makes the whole picture singu- 
larly impressive. 

But among so many hundreds of pictures it is 
impossible to enumerate all which attract and inter- 



4G HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

est. The whole history of France is here : and a 
history of " battle, and murder, and sudden death," 
it is too. The proportion of peaceful scenes is as 
naught, in the vast sea of tumult and change, of 
revolution and of carnage. Battles on land, and 
battles on the sea, seditions and conspiracies, crowd 
the walls. Even those scenes which, at the first 
glance, are peaceful, need but a more thoughtful 
gaze to prove them the preparation for new vio- 
lences, or the repose of mere exhaustion. " The 
Opening of the States-General," — what an abyss 
lies at the feet of that gay assemblage, which seems 
but a festive and hopeful gathering ! " The Cor- 
onation of Napoleon," — what scenes of blood and 
horror lie just behind it ! What a country France 
has been, and with what energy she recovers 
from agonies that would have been death to a less 
buoyant nation ! What thoughts must people the 
mind of those Frenchmen who have a heart and a 
hope for freedom, as they walk through this long 
series, wherein is displayed their country's changing 
history ! The thought which originated this collec- 
tion, and enshrined it in such noble rooms, and thus 
united the unpainted pictures of the past which 
throng upon the memory at the mere mention of 
Versailles with those in which art has done its best 
to immortalize the scenes it has portrayed, was 
grandly conceived, and has been worthily embodied. 



GARDENS AND FOUNTAINS. 47 

Of the gardens and the fountains, too, there is 
much to be said, but how to say it ? To tell of 
branching trees, and brilliant flowers, of acres of 
turf, and plashing water, and bronze and marble 
statues, will give little or no idea of the matter. 
The elaborate fountains spring up here and there, 
and make sweet pictures of the dashing and foaming 
waters. Neptune and Diana and Apollo reign here, 
and group after group of gods and goddesses attracts 
the eye. Tritons and Sirens play amid the tiny waves, 
and bright shafts of water leap into the sunlight like 
pillars of silver. But our feet are weary, and our 
head is aching with the labor they have undergone, 
and we fling ourselves at last into a carriage, and 
catching a train as the sunset gold is streaming 
over earth and sky, we return to Paris, tired and 
dusty, and, alas for our prose amid so much of 
poetry, desperately hungry ! 



CHAPTER IY. 

The Boulevards of Paris. — Appartements Meubles. — Palace and Gar- 
den of the Tuileries. — Exposition Universelle. — Annexe and Palais 
des Beaux Arts. — Amusements of the Champs Elysees. — Excite- 
ment and Fatigue of Travelling for Pleasure. 

An evening walk upon the Boulevards of Paris 
is a very amusing affair, and a breathing of the 
fresh air there is an admirable preparation for sleep. 
The innumerable varieties of costume, of language, 
of face, and of manner, follow each other in quick 
succession, and keep the attention alive for hours. 
Some are talking earnestly, unmindful of who may 
listen, some go along bowing and tripping as only 
French people can do without making themselves 
superlatively ridiculous, and others, like ourselves, 
simply stare at the rest, with an occasional com- 
ment for mutual edification. We sometimes take 
chairs from amidst the hundreds which, in a double 
row, line the spacious sidewalks ; in a moment a 
little woman appears, with a white cap on her head, 
adorned with those inexhaustible rose-colored rib- 
bons which all French women of that class indulge 
in, and, putting forth a fat little hand, says, with 



" DEUX sous." 49 

a good-humored smile, " Deux sous, Monsieur, s'il 
vous plait, pour la chaise." If we go to the Champs 
Elysees, to the theatre, or to the Cirque do l'lmpera- 
trice, another little woman with the inevitable pink 
ribbons, in fact the very counterpart of her you saw 
the night before on the Boulevards, insinuates a 
footstool beneath the feet of " Madame," retires a 
moment, to approach with inimitable grace soon 
after, and say, " Deux sous, Madame, pour le petit 
banc, s'il vous plait." And so " deux sous " ap- 
pears to be the key-note of many lives in Paris, and 
we furnish our proportion thereof with a smile, and 
a wish that the little woman's pink ribbons may 
never fade, nor the shadow of her receipts grow 
less. This privilege of letting chairs upon the side- 
walks and upon the public squares is rented out to 
different persons, and forms a not inconsiderable 
source of revenue to the government, which does 
not disdain to look after the " deux sous " that 
belong to it, though, in the main, very liberal in 
its treatment of sight-seers, and hospitable to stran- 
gers who mind their own business and do not 
meddle with politics. It is a great relief to many 
sight-seers, far from their lodgings and with that 
sort of homeless feeling which besets one at such 
times, to be able to sit as long as they please upon 
seats which they have made their own for the time 
being. The amusement of the thing, too, is another 

5 D 



50 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

recommendation, and a chair in the Champs Ely sees 
or in the Boulevard des Italiens, at whatever time 
in the day or evening you may take it, is quite 
equal to a loge in the Opera Comique. All Paris 
is out of doors from sunrise till midnight, and an 
endless variety of scenes passes before the eyes of 
the looker-on, while nobody seems at all annoyed 
at being stared at. Besides, there are always plenty 
of other people sitting as you are, with no other 
earthly occupation than you have, and as you re- 
sign yourself when your own turn to be stared at 
comes on, the balance is apparently struck to the 
satisfaction of all parties. Most of the streets of 
Paris are still at night, and on returning from the 
opera, or from a late stroll, we have been often 
struck with the serene quiet which reigns for the 
most part out of doors. This is not of course uni- 
versally the case, but in the better class of streets it 
is eminently so, and the Hue de Rivoli, which is, 
during the long summer day, a scene of constant 
turmoil, is at one o'clock in the morning as hushed 
and still as a country village. We walked on a 
summer night from the Place de la Concorde to the 
Palace of the Tuileries, without meeting a dozen 
people on the sidewalk, or hearing more than a sin- 
gle carriage rattle over the pavements. 

Having made our plans for seeing as much as 
possible of Paris during the time we decide to give 



APPARTEMENTS MEUBLES. 51 

it, our first step towards accomplishment was to 
change our quarters from the hotel to private apart- 
ments, in which we can expatiate more comfortably 
than at the hotel, where many of the hours disap- 
pear imperceptibly and without bringing the fruit 
of their labors. Therefore, two or three days after 
our arrival, we went forth to search for a home on 
a small scale, where we might " take our ease." 
From among the innumerable doorways wherein 
hang the white and yellow placards with " Grands 
et petits Appartements meubles " upon them, we 
select those which appear most promising, and en- 
ter into the interior of many different domiciles. 
Several lodgings in the Champs Elysees were very 
attractive, but the great penchant which has sprung 
up in our hearts for the quaint old Tuileries finally 
determined us to take some pleasant rooms which 
look out on the palace, and give us glimpses of the 
trees and fountains in the gardens. 

The " Grand Appartement " contains usually 
three or four bedrooms, a dining-room, an ante- 
chamber, and another room appropriated to mis- 
cellaneous purposes. It may be had in nearly all 
degrees of splendor. The " Petit Appartement " 
admits of as many degrees of comfort and cosiness, 
and consists of one, or at most two bedrooms, a 
parlor and dining, or, as it is usually employed, a 
breakfast room, — for dinner is almost always ob- 



52 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

tained better at a restaurant. Some of these estab- 
lishments arc the prettiest imaginable. Our rooms 
are very neat and comfortable, furnished with taste 
and attended to with care. The servants are in- 
comparable, and as we come forth in the morning 
to the tempting little breakfast which awaits our 
earliest movement, one would say that we were 
waited on by fairy messengers, and that only Ariel's 
swift fingers could have brought the broiled chicken 
from the coals, or the cafe au lait from the fire. 
From our windows we see always something to in- 
terest ; — a troop of cavalry dashes by at one mo- 
ment, or a company of infantry moves on with 
measured tread to the sound of drum and fife ; 
crowds of gayly-dressed ladies go by on foot or in 
carriages, grave police-men in blue coats and cocked 
hats walk majestically hither and thither, and al- 
ways the trees in the Tuileries gardens wave gently 
in the summer air, and the wise old palace wears 
its look of ponderous sagacity. We never weary 
of looking at it, and its charm increases from day 
to day. Gray and sombre, full of windows and 
heavy mouldings, with statues which look as if 
they were weary of the sunshine and would fain 
retire still farther into their dusty niches, the old 
building stands isolated in the midst of the crowd, 
a thing of the past, though full of uses for to-day, — 
a memory half of horror and half of beauty. It is 



TUILERIES GARDENS. 53 

delightful to be able to plunge into the depths of 
the gardens as we do ; we cross the busy Rue Rivoli, 
and in a moment we are in forest shade, in some 
secluded walk where sunshine never penetrates, and 
where the noise of the city outside seems softened 
and removed by the stillness close at hand. Or we 
keep in the more public pathways, and only ex- 
change the rush of carriages and the bustle of 
trade for the more mirthful noise and fresher gay- 
ety of the innumerable little children who pass the 
morning hours here under the care of their bonnes, 
who sit sewmg and gossiping under the trees. 

This is a fine time to be in Paris, and it seems 
possible so to arrange our movements as to secure 
the best part of all that is to be seen and heard, 
at the same time that we " do " all we expected in 
the way of general sight-seeing. Paris, at all times 
nearly inexhaustible in attractions, offers this year 
her " Exposition Universelle," or World's Fair, and 
by and by, when the first curiosity of the people is 
satisfied over the assemblage of wonders in the in- 
animate departments, we are to have the wondrous 
spectacle of an English monarch coming in peace 
and love to the French capital. PeojDle find it easy 
to sneer at a safe distance from Louis Napoleon, and 
to find matter for merriment in the striking con- 
trasts which his life presents ; but there must be 
something of the magician in him after all, and it 

5* 



54 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

is not every man who could live such an Arabian 
Nights' sort of life, with such serene indifference 
and magnificently blase grace as he. The lower 
down upon the scale he may have been in the past, 
the more does his recuperative force show itself in 
his present height, and that the poor adventurer 
who once walked the streets of London should be 
able, under ever so fortuitous a combination of cir- 
cumstances, to play the host to the Queen of Great 
Britain, is in itself a spectacle for the age to look 
at with astonishment. And we travellers have, for- 
tunately, nothing more to do with it, than to look 
on and thank those who provide the show for us, 
and at the same time assume all its responsibilities 
and all its possible consequences. All we have to 
do is to hope for fair weather and a good-natured 
crowd when the fete-day comes on, and in the inter- 
vening time to keep our eyes wide open for the other 
matters of interest around us. 

The Exposition Universelle can by no means be 
dismissed in few words, when even the catalogue of 
its contents requires volume after volume of porten- 
tous thickness. Many and long are the visits we 
must make, if we would have even a faint idea of 
the grand whole, and hope to understand the vast- 
ness and variety of the collection to which the whole 
world has been tributary. In fact, it is a world in 
itself. We wander on through path after path, till 



EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. 55 

the eyes ache with gazing, yet beautiful objects still 
beckon us on ; the feet ache with walking, yet there 
are aisles after aisles stretching out in the still un- 
explored distance ; the brain aches Avith its effort to 
retain and classify the images already imprinted 
upon it, yet new wonders and new beauties chase 
away and obliterate those which a moment before 
seemed to have made an indelible impression. 
Some little division may, however, be made, through 
numbering over the different buildings appropriated 
to the Exhibition, the names of which indicate in 
general terms the purposes to which each is applied. 
First, therefore, we have the main building, — 
the Exposition par excellence, — the nucleus of 
the affair as it were. This is a beautiful edifice, 
intended to be permanent, and therefore built of 
stone, elaborately ornamented, and with some pre- 
tension to architectural display. The straw-colored 
stone which forms the chief building-material of 
Paris, is admirably adapted to the purposes of orna- 
mentation and elaboration ; for its softness when 
new renders it easy of adornment, and its harden- 
ing with age makes it worth while to spend labor 
and taste upon it. Its color is so cheerful too, 
and even when time has discolored it, it is so easy 
of renovation, that Paris should consider itself 
highly favored in this respect. The effect of the 
long, light mass of the Exposition, standing among 



56 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

the trees of the Champs Elysees, is very pretty, espe- 
cially by moonlight, when the figures which adorn 
the front seem to come out into mimic life. This 
building contains an untold wealth of articles, com- 
prising all elegant manufactures, and is adorned 
with flowers, and creeping vines and fountains. The 
great fountain beneath the dome leaps and dances 
among tropical plants, and fills the air with fresh- 
ness ; and the constant crowd in the Rotonde proves 
that it is deemed a most agreeable change from the 
movement and bustle of the courts. It is amply 
supplied with seats, and one could ask no pleasanter 
place of rest after two or three hours of wandering 
through the intricate courts and passages. Of the 
articles hoarded within these walls, we can mention 
only a small portion, and each name stands for such 
numerous and widely different specimens and man- 
ufactures, that even this enumeration seems to be 
useless. There are carpets ; but the word carpet 
covers here such an infinity of different material, of 
weaving, of coloring, of value, that we wonder, in 
the end, how we can imagine a carpet to be a simple 
matter. And so with all these multiform products of 
human ingenuity. There are tapestries and jewels, 
bronzes and Sevres porcelain, Parian statues and 
Bohemian glasses, vases of every beautiful form 
and substance, carved altars and jewelled shrines, 
cabinet-work and watches, musical instruments and 



THE ANNEXE. 57 

brocades, and silks and velvets and embroideries, 
and cloth of silver and cloth of cotton, — in short, 
everything that has received its present shape from 
the hand of the artisan. 

Adjoining this immense building — of which we 
feel that we have not given even a faint idea of its 
contents — stands the "Annexe," so called. And 
one might say that French ideas of "annexation" 
were not, after all, essentially different from Amer- 
ican ones on the same subject ; for this same " An- 
nexe " is a principality by itself, and covers a terri- 
tory of no small extent. It measures seven eighths 
of a mile in length, and has height and breadth suf- 
ficient for a double row of enormous machinery, 
where endless varieties of engines perform end- 
less varieties of motion, and bring about endless 
varieties of results ; where science shows its victo- 
ries and ingenuity its wondrous adaptations ; and 
where steam is king over all, and carries on his 
government with no end of clatter and turmoil, and 
about whose kingdom there is no doubt that " the 
wheels are well greased." Wonderful beyond meas- 
ure, and in some sense more attractive than the 
brilliant display of the main building, is tnis storm 
of sound, this mighty whirring of wheels, this rush 
of saws and falling of hammers, all apparently cha- 
otic and objectless, but all really, and after a long 
look visibly, under perfect control. Even the mi- 



58 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

initiated and ignorant feel the' spell of active power 
which pervades the Annexe, and linger among the 
machines with a more or less puzzled curiosity. 
There are ponderous engines which bend a stick of 
timber like a wisp of straw, which cut through bars 
of iron as they were strips of paper ; and there are 
other machines of watch-like delicacy of mechanism, 
which take up their work more daintily than any 
fine lady in the world, and manipulate the frailest 
substance with . unerring safety. Here, also, are 
stored carriages of all sorts ; and works in wood 
and iron, and brass and steel, which have emerged 
from fire and water, and earth and air, and stand 
ready to commence their mission for man's con- 
venience. We always found the Annexe full when 
we penetrated into its vortex, and here were as- 
sembled the most practical of the spectators of the 
whole Exposition. Here, too, was the platform on 
which our American interest was most worthily rep- 
resented ; and here, at least, we entered into com- 
petition with the older nations of the world, though 
we might not hope to vie with them in their splendor 
of jewelry or glory of art. 

At some little distance from the Annexe stands 
the Palais des Beaux Arts, where are collected the 
paintings, drawings, statuary, and all objects of art. 
The catalogue of this portion of the Exhibition 
numbers over six hundred pages. The whole realm 



PALAIS DES BEAUX ARTS. 59 

of modern art is represented here on a scale of un- 
exampled magnificence. Every country has fur- 
nished something, and never before was gathered 
together such an array of excellence. It is almost 
impossible to leave this enchanted spot, when once 
the genius of the place has laid his hand upon you. 
Among the paintings from Spain are a large number 
of very admirable portraits, which interest us much. 
In the division belonging to the Pontifical States is 
a small collection of miniatures of extreme beauty, 
copies from famous paintings, executed with great 
taste and delicacy. The paintings from the United 
States are few in number, — several by Healy, one 
or two by Cranch and Rossiter, <fcc. ; but we do not 
shine here, — we have left our glory behind in the 
Annexe. Great Britain sends liberally of her best ; 
and we stand delighted before her many noble paint- 
ings, and the long array of aquarelles, which fasci- 
nate us one by one ; — Stanfield, Eastlake, Leslie 
(we will put in a small claim for him ourselves), 
Maclise, and, above all and before all, the inimitable 
and unapproachable Landseer. How the people 
group around " The Horse-Shoeing," and " The 
Scotch Breakfast," and turn away at last with a 
smile of pleasure and satisfaction on their faces ! 
There are subjects for all tastes, — landscapes and 
historical scenes, battles and prison-gloom, sunshine 
and shadow, life and death. 



60 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

There is also a respectable representation of stat- 
uary in the English department, among which we 
sec two of Gibson's works and several of AVcstnia- 
cott's, — while in engravings, including lithographs 
and chromo-lithographs, there are more than two 
hundred specimens. The Dusseldorf artists send 
a large representation, and Kaulbach speaks from 
Munich. A Turkish painter, residing in Paris, has 
painted for us the " Battle of the Alma." There are 
also innumerable plans of citadels, and elevations 
of cathedrals, and facades for all sorts of edifices. 
France — having placed all the other nations before 
her in the catalogue, as a hospitable host should do, 
and having allowed them ample space upon the 
walls for arranging their cliefs-cVceuvre in the de- 
sired light — quietly fills in the said catalogue 
a space as large as all the rest put together, 
and spreads out her acres of canvas, rich with the 
colors of her best artists. The animals of Rosa 
Bonheur vie with those of the English Landseer. 
Delacroix fills ample space. Horace Vernet por- 
trays every possible event in modern French his- 
tory, and expatiates especially on sundry battles in 
Algeria, alternating apparently in his own mind 
between these and those other greater battles, 
wherein, while painting simple truth, he may pay 
reversionary compliments from the uncle to the 
nephew. Hundreds of painters, whose names are 



PALAIS DES BEAUX ARTS. Gl 

unknown to us, have pictures, better or worse, upon 
these limitless walls, and portraits of great and lit- 
tle men and women, of the past and of the present, 
smile or frown upon us as we walk beneath. All 
sorts of faces are here, from that of the Emperor, 
with his non-committal expression, to some un- 
known Monsieur B. or some placid Madame C. with 
no expression at all. In one of the principal rooms 
are the beautiful portraits of the Empress by Win- 
terhalter, in one of which she is seated in the open 
air, surrounded by her maids of honor, the whole 
forming a group of beautiful women which it does 
the eyes good to gaze at. The full-length portraits 
of the Emperor and Empress, by the same artist, are 
also admirable, and daily attract crowds about them. 
We have spent a great many hours in this same 
Palais des Beaux Arts, yet we have hardly touched 
upon those delicious aquarelles which have such 
a fresh and simple charm, and we have said noth- 
ing of the medals, and the architectural models, 
and the marble busts, and the bronze and plaster 
castings. We seem in the landscapes to have had 
views of every inch of the earth's surface ; in the 
portraits, to have seen the faces of everybody we 
ever heard of, and many whose names never be- 
fore were wafted on the breath of even a local 
notoriety ; in the fancy pieces we have surely ex- 
hausted the human imagination, — we have stripped 

6 



62 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

Olympus of its gods and goddesses, the mythology 
of its inhabitants, the Scripture even of its mighty 
men, — we have seen all the martyrs die the death, 
and all the tyrants struck in judgment, have heard 
the lambs bleating in the valleys, and the trum- 
pet and the cannon on the field of battle. There 
can be nothing beneath the heavens which we have 
not seen painted in these latter days, and some of 
these artists would fain persuade us that they have 
the keys of upper air, and can depict for us that 
which " nor eye hath seen nor ear heard." Weary 
and worn out in body and in mind, we seek the 
shelter and the rest of our rooms at last, and leave 
the Exposition Universelle to its fate for a while. 

Also in the Champs Elysees is the " Cirque de 
l'lmperatrice," where we spend part of an evening 
in seeing the fine riding and the astonishing feats 
of dexterity. It is a noble, circular building, and 
will seat about four thousand persons comfortably, 
even in these summer evenings. But in such charm- 
ing weather as this, one loves better to be out of 
doors than within ; so we wander forth to lose our- 
selves for a while in the avenues, and to see with 
what other people are amusing themselves. The 
long paths are full of people, walking or sitting- 
still, talking gayly or smoking solemnly. The open- 
air concerts are in full operation, and the managers 
thereof reaping a fair harvest for their reward. 



CHAMPS ELYSEES. 63 

The singers stand in a little pavilion, gay with 
flowers and brilliant with lights, and the audience 
sit in wooden chairs beneath the shadowing trees. 
"We see many of these establishments in " the full 
tide of successful experiment," and smile to see 
the devout attention of the listeners. Walking- 
farther on, we espy an arm-chair, in which we are 
invited to sit down and be weighed, — price for 
knowing your own avoirdupois, five sous. Anon 
we come upon a gayly-decorated tent, where little 
wooden horses wish to give us a ride, and on which 
we see grown men and women whirling round in 
a circle, with great glee, while flags are flying and 
music sounding. Sometimes the equestrians attempt 
feats of dexterity, such as throwing lances through 
rings suspended overhead, or aiming at a mark, 
as their steeds whirl past it, generally with a want 
of success quite amusing to the by-standers. The 
facility with which French people are amused, and 
the silliness of many of their games, are quite 
marvellous to persons of graver temperament and 
less exuberant life. It has its bright side without 
doubt, for multitudes are kept healthful in body 
and cheerful in mind by an outlay so small as to 
be within the reach of all ; and it is far better that 
a poor man, after his clay's work, should find de- 
light for himself and his family in shooting pop- 
guns at little wooden images in the open air, than 



64 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

in consuming liis wages at a tavern or a gin- 
palace. 

We are enjoying the most delightful weather that 
ever made travellers happy, and there is an exhil- 
aration in this clear, high air, which sustains us 
through exertions that in a more enervating climate 
would exhaust us. We rarely complain of fatigue, 
yet we walk and stand a large proportion of each 
day, in spite of the careful arrangement we make in 
the order of our expeditions and of the drives we 
take from place to place. But the steps which we 
take through galleries, and up staircases, and in 
churches, are absolutely innumerable, and we re- 
turn at night conscious that our feet have served us 
well. Travellers for pleasure always do an amount 
of hard work, and go through miracles of physical 
endurance, from which many a day-laborer would 
shrink, and which, added to the wear and tear of 
the mind, and the excitement of the brain conse- 
quent upon an interested survey of such a constant 
succession of objects, are apt to test the strength of 
almost every constitution. Yet, though travellers 
own this, and are continually cautioning and re- 
straining others, the contagion proves too strong, 
and all hurry from place to place, and from sight to 
sight, with equal avidity. The day seems so short 
when there are so many things to be done in it ! and 
accomplish what we will to-day, there is always 



FATIGUE OF SIGHT-SEEING. (Jo 

enough left for to-morrow. If we are to stay but a 
short time, wo think we must glance at as many 
different objects as we can crowd into the time wo 
have ; — if we are in no especial hurry as to time, 
we feel that we ought to look at each object more in 
detail, and to examine with more care ; — so, either 
way, the activity of mind and body is the same. 
Besides, even when we are wise enough and firm 
enough to take an occasional rest, it is not, in a 
foreign land and among the thousand attractions 
and distractions there, the same repose which is 
attainable at home, where we can leave off the outer 
life for a while, and have a short season of refresh- 
ing torpidity. The rush of the day follows you 
through the night ; the mind cannot stoj) at once in 
its busy motion; a " masterly inactivity" is quite 
unattainable ; and we conclude, after one or two 
attempts, that it is, on the whole, about as well to 
keep busy in the legitimate way of sight-seeing, as 
to make ourselves restless and nervously excited by 
the nightmare pressure which often follows on an 
enforced inaction amid such powerful temptations to 
be stirring. By every pleasant method attainable, 
however, and by endeavoring to intersperse the more 
fatiguing class of sights with those which arc less so, 
we seek to spare ourselves from dangerous fatigue, 
and sometimes snatch a little sweet unconscious 
rest. 



CHAPTER V. 

Palaco of the Chamber of Deputies. — Hotel des Invalides. — Luxem- 
bourg Palace and Gallery. — St. Sulpice. — St. Roch. — Palais de 
Justice. — Sainte Chapelle. — The Morgue. — Cathedral of Notre 
Dame. — St. Germain 1' Auxerrois. — Tour de St. Jacques. — Pan- 
theon. — St. Etienne du Mont. 

We visited one morning the Palace of the Cham- 
ber of Deputies, formerly the Palais Bourbon and 
the property of the Prince de Conde. Famous 
afterwards as the place where the sittings of the 
Council of Five Hundred took place, and the Dep- 
uties held their sessions, it suggests a thousand 
thoughts, and involves many and various reminis- 
cences. One of the most recent and interesting is 
that of the young Duchess of Orleans, who came 
here in 1848, after the flight of Louis Philippe, 
and, holding her children by the hand, endeavored 
in vain to stop the torrent of revolution, and re- 
awaken the loyalty of the representatives of the 
kingdom. The Hall of the Deputies is very hand- 
some, and the offices and anterooms are arranged 
on a scale of great elegance. We read, upon the 
little brass plates inserted above the accommoda- 
tions for hats and umbrellas, many names with 



hotel des invalides. 07 

which these latter stirring years have made us 
familiar ; but desks and tribune were silent, and 
only our own footsteps echoed through the place. 
From the Palace we drove to the Hotel des In- 
valides, — one of the most interesting places in 
Paris. The foundations of the building were laid 
in 1670, and during all the intervening time France 
has had a supply of disabled soldiers to put in it. 
It has received many augmentations, and is now 
an enormous pile. The Revolution, which had such 
a mania for changing names, called it the Temple 
de l'Humanite, and under Napoleon I. it was named 
Temple de Mars. At the Restoration it resumed 
its original title. It is approached by a magnificent 
esplanade. The principal court is three hundred 
and twelve feet long and a hundred and ninety-two 
wide. Around it are the buildings occupied by the 
governor and officers of the institution, and the din- 
ing-rooms for the invalides. The amount of meat 
and vegetables consumed by the three thousand sol- 
diers domiciled here, was told off for our amiable 
astonishment by the glib young man who attended 
us, but I should be afraid to set down the figures. 
A bottle of claret is allowed per diem to each sol- 
dier, and another regulation made us smile in spite 
of ourselves ; the men who have lost their legs are 
allowed a sum of money instead of shoes. In the 
old church there hung, in the time of Napoleon, 



68 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

three thousand flags taken from the enemies of 
France, — they were burnt by the order of Joseph 
Bonaparte just before the allied armies entered 
Paris in 1814 ! The sword of Frederick the Great 
kept here was also broken ! But the wonder of the 
whole is the Dome, which rises high and vast from 
the square tower behind the church. The height 
from the ground to the top of the cross is three 
hundred and twenty-three feet. The dome itself is 
magnificent. Around it are six chapels, in one of 
which lies the body of the great Napoleon awaiting 
the completion of the beautiful porphyry sarcopha- 
gus in which it is to rest beneath the mighty dome 
itself. Fit resting-place for a hero whom his people 
love ! The little chapel meanwhile receives many a 
long and earnest look. An iron grating prevents 
entrance, but hardly obstructs the sight of the in- 
terior. The Emperor's hat and sword lie upon a 
cushion near the body. Among the many rooms 
shown to the stranger are some which contain the 
portraits of the Marshals of France. The guide — 
one of the invalides who enjoys the perquisites 
appertaining to this portion of the establishment, 
which is divided and subdivided into innumerable 
districts with guides for each — stops before each 
picture, and in a voice of sonorous monotony, and 
with a most solemn visage, delivers a long harangue 
concerning the life, exploits, and death of the in- 



THE LUXEMBOURG. GO 

dividual at whom he supposes his audience to be 
looking. It becomes slightly tiresome when you 
have heard the first half-dozen ; but there is no 
alternative, as the portraits are all that these rooms 
contain of special interest, and you must submit to 
the guide's conscientious performance of his duty. 
The dormitories, and in fact the whole establish- 
ment, are neatness itself. 

Another place requiring time for its examination, 
and well repaying one for a leisurely survey, is 
the Palace of the Luxembourg, and the beautiful 
gardens belonging to it. The palace, as is well 
known, is built upon the model of the Pitti Palace 
at Florence, and stands among the garden grounds 
in a remarkably fine position. Since its erection in 
the sixteenth century, by the Duke of Luxembourg, 
it has passed through many hands, and received 
many different names ; but the old appellation clings 
to it through all. During the Revolution, it was 
used as a prison. The interior is very spacious, and 
very redundantly ornamented ; especially the Cham- 
bre clu Senat, which is decorated to lavislmess. The 
number of gorgeous rooms into which visitors arc 
allowed entrance is very great, and one grows weary 
of using the superlatives by which alone admiration 
can be expressed. On the ground floor arc the 
rooms once used as the private apartments of the 
Queen Marie dc Mcdicis. They arc not lofty, but in 



70 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

eveiy other respect of extreme elegance ; and the 
ceilings are so beautiful, that one is tempted to lie 
down upon the floor to gaze with greater ease upon 
the painting. Especially sumptuous is the chambre 
a coucher, where the walls are panelled and painted 
by Philippe of Champagne and Nicolas Poussin, 
and the ceiling is the work of Rubens and the first- 
named artist. The scroll-work which covers the 
walls is a marvel of delicate beauty. In the gallery 
of the Luxembourg are the works of the first living 
artists of France ; at the death of an artist, his 
pictures are removed to the Louvre. The gallery is 
a handsome one, and many of the paintings full of 
interest. Our attention was long held by a picture 
of " Charlotte Corday, arrested in the house of 
Marat." The grouping and coloring were admi- 
rably managed, and the details harmonious ; but it 
was in the face and figure of Charlotte Corday her- 
self that the great power of the picture lay. The 
majestic passiveness of her attitude, the serene 
calmness of her face, the almost unconscious dis- 
dain with which she meets the abuse of the infu- 
riated rabble, are all there ; and the past and future 
of the story are as plainly told as that of the imme- 
diate moment. One man has his fist thrust in her 
very face ; she does not even see him, nor docs she 
appear to notice in the least the excitement about 
her. There is neither fear nor defiance in her ex- 



ST. SULPICE. 71 

pression, nor even any effort at self-control, but a 
look of intense satisfaction, as if she thought only 
of the success with which she had finished her work. 
All personality has disappeared from her mind ; all 
responsibility is at end ; she has no thought of 
escape, no dread of punishment ; and it is we who 
look, who alone think how soon that fair young head 
must fall. The rage of the mob about her suggests 
most fearful thoughts of vengeance and of horror ; 
but she, the slight young maiden, stands in her 
fresh beauty as Hypatia. may have stood before her 
destroying enemies. Another painting, of " Judas 
betraying Christ," has some remarkable effects of 
light, but is, on the whole, somewhat melodra- 
matic ; and De la Roche's " Death of Queen Eliza- 
beth," so well known through the engravings, is a 
powerful but most disagreeable picture. 

The gardens are delicious, and form an invaluable 
treasure for the peoj3le of Paris, who have but to 
turn aside from the crowded and dusty highways, 
to bury themselves in this enchanted seclusion, and 
surround themselves with trees and flowers as fresh 
as if they grew miles and miles away from the bustle 
and filth of a great city. 

The old Church of St. Sulpice rears its twin 
towers in the air, and supports the telegraph-wires 
which flash the news from one end of Europe to 
the other. It is a noble old building, and dates 



72 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

from the time of Anne of Austria. The organ is 
the handsomest hi the city, is elaborately carved, 
and presents seventeen figures playing on musical 
instruments. The pulpit is very curious, being 
supported in mid-air by two staircases which lead 
up to it. 

The Church of St. Roch, not far from our lodg- 
ings, has attracted us within its ancient and time- 
honored walls many times. The morning Mass is 
magnificent, the organ being one of the grandest in 
Paris. The exterior has little pretension to beauty, 
but the interior is richly adorned with valuable 
paintings and costly shrines, and the parish is one 
of the most aristocratic in the city. The church 
itself has suffered, severely in several of the revolu- 
tions, inasmuch as it stands opposite the gardens of 
the Tuileries, separated only by the short Rue du 
Dauphin, which is easily swept by cannon planted 
at the palace. Standing on the Rue St. Honore*, it 
has been in the midst of much of the tumult and 
bloodshed which have been so rife in Paris. The 
broad flight of steps which leads up to the entrance, 
was crowded by wild beings when Marie Antoinette 
passed by to execution ; Napoleon cleared another 
mob from the same steps with his well-aimed can- 
non; and in the time of Charles X. they were again 
stained with blood. They are serene enough now, 
beneath the summer sunshine, and the only change 



PALAIS DE JUSTICE. 73 

which they seem to experience is the presence or 
absence of the hatchments which are hung over the 
church front when any of its wealthy or famous 
parishioners go to their long home. 

The Palais de Justice is an immense pile of build- 
ings, where the early kings of France resided, and 
where their successors now administer that very 
rare article, justice. We arc bound to suppose that 
much of it is attainable here, since the accommo- 
dations for it are so spacious and well arranged. 
The most interesting portion of the building is, 
however, tinged with associations very unlike the 
atmosphere of equity which we have supposed to 
prevail through these precincts. This is the Con- 
ciergerie, whose name brings before us a crowd of 
pale-faced prisoners, whose tears and sighs have 
hallowed these dark and gloomy walls. The Count 
of Lavalette, whose escape was more remarkable 
than his confinement, was imprisoned here ; the 
Princess Elizabeth dwelt in a horrible dungeon 
here ; Robespierre too spent miserable hours with- 
in these prison walls, and on the 2d of Septem- 
ber, 1792, two hundred and thirty-nine prisoners 
were massacred here. Truly a pleasant place ! 
Yet all these memories, sad as they are, give less 
of horror and of pain, than that of the poor queen, 
Marie Antoinette, in those bitter two months and 
a half, wherein she tasted more than the agony of 

7 



74 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

a thousand deaths, and from which she was led 
forth with grief-whitened hair to the scaffold. 

Adjoining the Palais de Justice is the Sainte 
Chapelle, one of the most curious buildings in 
Paris. It was built in 1248 by St. Louis, for the 
reception of the holy relics purchased by him from 
Baldwin, Emperor of Constantinople, — which rel- 
ics were the crown of thorns and a piece of the 
true cross. The building, with the relics, cost him 
a sum equal to 2,800,000 francs. It was long the 
chapel of the king and the French court. The 
whole edifice — with the exception of the beauti- 
ful stained windows, which almost miraculously 
escaped the general destruction — was barbarously 
mutilated during the Revolution ; but having been 
carefully and completely restored according to the 
original plan, we are as well able to judge of its 
beauty as St. Louis himself was six centuries ago. 
Beauty it undoubtedly has, and a good deal of it ; 
but it is of the pocket-edition style, and the orna- 
mentation is so minute, and at the same time so 
brilliant, that I was irresistibly reminded of some 
elaborate chef-d'eeuvre of confectionery. The main 
outlines are however very graceful, and it offers 
one kind of beauty to the distant eye, and another 
to the nearest and most acute investigation. The 
spire rises to no great height, but has a singular 
charm of lightness and aspiration, as it lifts its 



THE MORGUE. 75 

delicate tracery above the heavy masses of dark 
and gloomy and crime-stained buildings around it. 
A most significant edifice, and one whose outer 
appearance is singularly in consonance with all the 
images which arise in the mind at mention of its 
name, is the Morgue. On the morning of our visit, 
there lay on those long-used but still senseless slabs 
of stone, four unclaimed bodies. One was that of 
a little child, with horribly swollen limbs and dis- 
torted features, evidently at the limit of its allotted 
time, and yet unrecognized by any loving care ; 
another was an old woman, some threescore years 
and ten, whose worn and weary limbs at last found 
rest ; the third was a large, powerfully-built man 
of middle age, and with a frame of iron ; and the 
fourth was a young man of singularly handsome 
face and delicate figure, whose long, dark hair lay 
thrown back from his pale, serene face, as if he were 
only sleeping. He had probably been brought in 
but an hour or two before. It is a sad place to 
visit, yet there is a world of solemn meaning in the 
Morgue. That little, square stone building, in the 
very heart of Paris, has held the key to thousands 
of fearful tragedies and sad histories, and has been 
the resting-place of many a broken and betrayed 
heart, — the last scene in many a career of violence 
and crime. The exposure of the bodies, else so re- 
pulsive to the feelings, answers two admirable pur- 



76 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

poses, which redeem it from much of its painfulness. 
By the recognition of the body, the friends of the 
deceased may claim it for burial, and assure them- 
selves of a fate which otherwise might have forever 
remained in uncertainty ; and by an involuntary 
emotion many a criminal has betrayed his connec- 
tion witli crime that might else have gone u un- 
whipped of justice." So efficacious has this system 
of detection proved, that officers of justice are al- 
ways present to watch the countenances and man- 
ners of all who come to look at the dead. They 
become, through practice, extremely expert at dis- 
covering signs of guilt ; and many a fearful story 
is told, which the Morgue has been the means of 
bringing out of darkness into light. It stands on 
the small island which was once the city of Paris, 
and is now only the little heart to the vast and 
active body and limbs of the immense rnetroj:>olis. 
The sacred shadow of the grand Cathedral of Notre 
Dame falls like a mantle over the hideous Morsme, 
as if to protect it in some degree from a too loath- 
some dread. It is well to turn away from the sad 
spectacle of death to enter within the portals of that 
grand old church ; and the picture of those wretched 
corpses fades away, as we lift our eyes up to its lofty 
arches, and hear the solemn but hopeful tones of its 
mighty organ peal through the vast area. The long 
aisles stretch out before you ; the many chapels open 



CATHEDRAL OF NOTRE DAME. 77 

on you as you walk along, and it is only through 
long study, and through knowledge of some partic- 
ular length or breadth from which to make com- 
parisons, that the actual size of the interior is even 
guessed at. We set down as our starting-point of 
measurement upon the walls, that the diameter of 
yonder magnificent circular window is thirty-six feet, 
and the height of the vaulting one hundred and two 
feet. For the better grasping of the spaces on the 
floor, we say over to ourselves, that the pillars of the 
nave are four feet in diameter. After one or two 
efforts of this sort, however, we get -quite out of 
temper with figures, and decide that the general 
impression of vastness obtained by an unmcasuring 
eye more than compensates for any lack of precis- 
ion in detail. Nevertheless, as conscientious trav- 
ellers, we feel obliged, when on the spot, to go over 
some of the principal figures so carefully arranged 
for us by the disinterested kindness of the makers 
of hand-books. 

We shut ours now, however, and wander dream- 
ily hither and thither in the solemn gloom, pausing 
long to gaze upon the rich carved oak of the stalls 
in the choir, to turn over the leaves of the antique 
music-book leaning on one of the stands, and to 
glance reverently at the high altar, where kings and 
emperors and heroes have knelt, and which their 
magnificence has so lavishly adorned. The now 



78 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

vacant seats of the choir may be filled, by a small 
effort of the imagination, with the dignitaries of the 
past, and on days of state the lords of the Church 
still sit in the carved and time-stained stalls of their 
predecessors. One seat has, however, been occu- 
pied but once ; nor is it likely to be soon claimed 
again by its rightful owner. The Supreme Pontiff, 
Pius VII. (2 December, 1804), claimed it on the 
occasion when, as Head of the Church, he deigned 
to grace the coronation of Napoleon le Grand. Op- 
posite this seat is that of the Archbishop of Paris. 
Here Napoleon's marriage with Marie Louise was 
celebrated, and here the present Emperor was united 
to the sweet, j:>ale-faced Eugenie. In short, all the 
grand festivals wherein the Church has aught to 
say for France are solemnized within these walls, 
and many a grand Te Deum has risen up hence to 
heaven. 

In the sacristy are kept the sacred vessels of the 
church, the cups and salvers and vases of gold and 
silver and gems, and the magnificent robes which 
have been worn upon grand occasions. Most of 
them have been worn only on the ceremony for 
which they were prepared. The marriage and cor- 
onation robes of the first Napoleon, with those worn 
at the same time by archbishops and bishops, are 
stiff with embroidery and jewels. They are actually 
works of art, and worthy of more minute exami- 



CATHEDRAL OP NOTRE DAME. 79 

nation than one can give them as the guide opens 
drawer after drawer wherein they are spread out. 
Yet after all it seems a pity to shut them up in 
darkness, as food for the moths, after so brief a life 
in the open day ; and one cannot help thinking, too, 
of the patient fingers that labored long months upon 
the delicate gold and silver embroidery. Innumer- 
able are the chalices and candlesticks, and holy ves- 
sels of all sorts, incrusted with gems, on which the 
eye of the stranger is allowed to look. They have 
been presented from time to time by the faithful as 
votive offerings, or given hi ostentation by kings and 
nobles. The wealth shut up in this small apartment 
is enormous, and it is guarded with great, but not 
obtrusive care. A ticket is necessary to obtain en- 
trance, and guards are evidently within reach ; the 
room also is very strongly built, and arranged with 
a view to keeping one at a proper distance from the 
more portable articles ; but the whole manner of 
the servants is courteous, and the young priest in 
attendance was extremely obliging in his explana- 
tions, and patient in waiting the movements of the 
visitors. Emerging again into daylight, we look 
up at the two huge towers that have stood so long 
unmoved by the great turmoil of life and death 
around, and fancy that they frown on us as the 
beings of a day. 

Around this grand cathedral cluster many histor- 



80 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

ical and many romantic associations. Pageants of 
the past seem to leave a lingering glory within its 
walls ; the names of great men and beautiful women 
hallow the place where they have knelt ; and even 
poor Quasimodo seems to hover in the dark shadows 
of the corners, — the dear old "Hunchback of Notre 
Dame." The whole of this portion of Paris, indeed, 
is famous ground, every inch of which can tell its 
story of romance or of terror ; every street has been 
at some time baptized in blood ; the very stones 
have secrets, could we but give them voices. Quaint 
and venerable buildings meet you at every turn ; 
the streets are narrow, crooked, and dirty ; the blind 
alleys are full of squalor and filth ; the shops, and 
the wares in them, look weatherbeaten ; and in com- 
ing hither from the sunny and brilliant Boulevard 
des Italiens, one seems to have stepped back a cen- 
tury in time. 

Another church highly interesting, both in itself 
and in its associations, is that of St. Germain l'Aux- 
crrois, opposite the Louvre. It was terribly muti- 
lated so lately as 1881, in consequence of an attempt 
made to celebrate the anniversary of the death of 
the Due de Berri ; but it has since been restored. 
From its belfry the fatal signal for the massacre of 
St. Bartholomew was given, in 1572. The porches 
and doorways are extremely handsome, and the 
facade elaborately ornamented. 



TOWER OF ST. JAMES. 81 

On the new part of the Rue Rivoli stands the 
graceful Tour dc St. Jacques. It was until recently 
surrounded by hovels and old buildings of all sorts, 
and the earth had accumulated so about it as com- 
pletely to bury its base. It is now, through the 
energy of the present Emperor in cutting through the 
new street, cleared from all the rubbish, cleansed and 
repaired, and stands in a small but handsome pub- 
lic square, a thing of beauty for the eye to rest on, 
and forming an unusually perfect specimen of Gothic 
architecture. The church to which it once belonged 
has long since disappeared, but it is none the less 
beautiful for standing isolated from all but its own 
graceful symmetry. It is ornamented with gro- 
tesque figures ; from the loftiest turret looks forth 
over the city the statue of St. James, and around 
him, on the pinnacles of the tower, are the winged 
bull, the lion, and the dragon, whose outlines arc 
defined with great precision against the noonday 
sky, or loom up vague and shapeless in the " cold 
light of stars." We found strange fascination in 
passing this old tower at night ; it seems like some 
sleepless sentinel keeping his everlasting watch, the 
silent spectator of a whole city's joy and sorrow, 
revelry and crime, hope and despair. 

Then, there is the fine old church of St. Eustache 
to be seen, — the largest in Paris with tho exception 
of Notre Dame. Sombre and gloomy, it seems to 



82 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

remember the past, to the exclusion of any percep- 
tion of the present, and to prefer its tombs of the 
dead to the faces of the living. Colbert was interred 
here, and many other famous men ; but we let them 
rest without even calling over their names. The 
organ of this church is very fine. 

We rather affect churches in these last few days, 
and give to those mentioned a good deal of time 
and attention. A lengthened description would be 
tedious and out of place ; but it is pleasant to jot 
down a few words on each, which will serve to indi- 
vidualize them in the memory, and counteract the 
natural tendency to confusion consequent upon re- 
placing the image of one so immediately by that of 
another. 

The new Church of Notre Dame de Lorette, though 
small and little imposing in its exterior, has cost 
immense sums of money, and is absolutely splendid 
within. Paintings, and gilding, and ornamentation 
of all sorts, load the walls. The baptismal font is 
of bronze of exquisite workmanship : the high 
altar is almost overloaded with ornament. In fact, 
the whole interior is too gorgeous to be solemn, too 
theatrical to be satisfactory. The little Church of 
Ste. Elizabeth of Hungary, far down in the old Rue 
du Temple, tempted 'us to enter its precincts one 
morning, and left upon our minds an impression 
of solemnity. In the vestibules of mou of the 



THE PANTHEON. 83 

churches we find sitting the poor beggars who seem 
to have constituted themselves a part of the church 
establishment, and to whom the charitable give a few 
sous in passing. Blind and crippled old men and 
women, generally neatly clothed, sit in the wooden 
chairs, or on the church steps, with hands out- 
stretched in patient waiting through all the long 
morning hours. 

The Pantheon, or Church of Ste. Genevieve, re- 
quires a morning for full appreciation of the edi- 
fice, and of the admirable view of the city which 
is obtained from the top. And, by the way, Paris 
is particularly well furnished with opportunities for 
these bird's-eye views, which are of such value to a 
stranger in his attempts to arrive at some compre- 
hension of the city as a whole, and of the relative 
situation of one point of interest to another. There 
are many heights in different positions which may 
be scaled without fatigue. The Triumphal Arch at 
the head of the Grand Avenue of the Champs Ely- 
sees is one, the iron column of Napoleon in the 
Place Vendume is another, the Pantheon a third, 
and so on, each affording a glimpse of something 
which the other does not command, and all display- 
ing a panorama which more than repays for the 
trouble of reaching it. The number of steps by 
which we mount to the cupola of the Pantheon is 
four hundred and seventy-five. The painting of the 



84 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

dome is by Gros, and contains a number of groups 
which we had not patience to study out. Under the 
church is an immense series of vaults, very se- 
pulchral in effect as well as in purpose. The clang 
of the doors echoes through these vaults in fearful 
style. There is no end of famous monumental in- 
scriptions over the illustrious and the notorious 
dead. Among them are Rousseau and Voltaire, 
Marshal Lannes, and innumerable others. Marat 
and Mirabeau were both buried here, but afterwards 
removed by order of government. 

Close by the Pantheon is the Church of St. 
Etienne du Mont, — a quaint and most interesting 
piece of antiquity. In one of the chapels are the 
tomb and shrine of Ste. Genevieve herself, the be- 
loved patron saint of Paris, who in times past has 
been of great service in averting plague, pestilence, 
and famine from the city, by her powerful prayers. 
And this day, more than a thousand years after her 
death, her tomb is watered with the tears of peni- 
tents, hung with fresh wreaths of immortelles, and 
besieged with the prayers of simple-hearted men 
and women. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Busy Life of the Present Time. — Interest of a Walk in the Streets of 
Paris. — Shopping Temptations. — Rue du Temple and Rue Rivoli. — 
Morning Worship at the Madeleine. — St. Cloud. — Rural Neighbor- 
hood of Paris. 

We live a very active and busy life just now, and 
our days are filled with various images and never- 
ceasing excitements. In the morning we despatch 
our breakfast, which we take quietly in our little 
salle d manger, and briefly look over our achieve- 
ments of the preceding day, and discuss and decide 
upon the movements of the present one. The im- 
possibility of taking rest after the day's work is 
begun, induces us to breakfast at a rather late hour, 
in order to be sure of not doing in one day enough 
to exhaust us for two or three. Once prepared for 
going out, we rarely return to our rooms till night- 
fall, when we take a late dinner at some restaurant, 
and end the day with a stroll on the Boulevards, or 
at some place of amusement. Towards midnight 
we get an hour for journalizing, over which we 
occasionally fall asleep. What is not set down in 
writing then never gets written, for there is no such 

8 



86 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

thing as picking up lost stitches, since next day 
brings quite as much as can be disposed of. The 
daily life of a stranger here is so full of variety, and 
to him so brimming with interest, that he runs the 
risk of making his account tedious to those who do 
not share in the personal interest which pervades 
them in his own recollection. Incidents in them- 
selves of little moment assume piquancy to him who 
recalls not only the facts, but all their accessories of 
motion and of color. There is nothing trivial or 
unworthy of notice in a place like Paris, when we 
ourselves experience it ; every step we take opens a 
new prospect, every face we see has a new signifi- 
cance, and every word we hear has the piquant 
provocation of a foreign tongue to make us listen 
to it. From the moment of setting out in the morn- 
ing for the expeditions and amusements of the day, 
till the return at night with brains full of pictures 
and limbs full of weariness, we encounter an unin- 
terrupted series of panoramic views. Whether we 
walk or drive through the streets, visit a church or 
a picture-gallery, a shop or a palace, move on with 
the crowd, or, pausing ourselves, watch the swaying 
of the masses around us, we find ourselves always 
breathing an atmosphere of exhilaration. The day 
passes rapidly, and yet, when at midnight we sit 
down to count over the sights we have seen, the espe- 
cial sounds we have heard, the steps we have taken, 



BUSY LIFE OF TRAVELLERS. 87 

in a word, the lions we have killed, we feel well 
satisfied witli our achievements, and the life of 
three common days seems to have been compressed 
into one. And this seeing of sights is by no means 
a mechanical matter : it is a means of rapid devel- 
opment of many of our intellectual faculties. The 
memory strengthens and becomes systematic in the 
process, and, not content with grasping firm hold 
of that which to-day is present, but to-morrow will 
be forever past, it becomes skilful in exploring its 
old treasures, and under the pressure of immediate 
suggestion recalls a thousand useful bits of knowl- 
edge that have long lain dormant. Most travellers 
of ordinary intelligence and ordinary acquirements 
will be surprised to find how much they really know 
about a famous object, when they are face to face 
with it. A description read long ago in a moment 
of idleness, an engraving which won the attention 
years since, a few words dropped in conversation by 
some one who had seen it, — all these little reminis- 
cences start up in wonderful distinctness just at the 
moment when they are most welcome. The convic- 
tion of the truth of this proposition, and the per- 
sonal experience of its practical effect, are the great- 
est encouragement to each successive traveller to 
set down, in his turn, something more in regard to 
the old subjects, sure that, in freshening up the im- 
pressions or in recalling the old knowledge of some 



88 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

future wayfarer, lie will have won the thanks and 
increased the pleasure of those who follow in his 
steps. The change also from one day's sights to 
another is itself a means of development, and each 
experience, so far from being an isolated one, is an 
ever increasing force of preparation for the next, and 
intimately connected with that which preceded it. 
The perceptions quicken and intensify in the using, 
and each day finds us keener in discovery and 
readier in appreciation. And in addition to the de- 
velopment of the more selfish intellectual progres- 
sion, through increase of the amount of our personal 
knowledge, comes that more universal widening of 
sympathy with humanity at large, of comprehension 
of the necessity and propriety of differences in its 
manifestations, and of inner unity beneath external 
variety, which follow upon thoughtful observation of 
the people of different nations, of different climates, 
and of different social circumstances. He travels 
to little purpose who does not learn ever a wider 
charity, and cannot hear the same human heart 
throb in every breast. 

Shopping expeditions in Paris are unique opera- 
tions, — in fact> they are intellectual and moral 
exercises of no small value to a thoughtful mind. 
The ideas gained are often important psychological 
facts, and mental gymnastics are often required in 
the struggle to master contradictions and. to recon- 



SHOPPING IN PARIS. 89 

cile discrepancies. Add to this the amount of prac- 
tice in the intricacies of a foreign language which 
one goes through in trafficking with Parisian shop- 
keepers, and a morning among them is far different 
from a lounge down Broadway. The presence of 
the Exposition Universelle, this season, is a circum- 
stance which is by no means ignored by the smallest 
boutiquier in the city, and the keenest Yankees of 
the New World would hide their diminished heads 
before the superior astuteness with which the fact 
is made available in the raising of prices, and the 
bland pertinacity with which the alleged cheapness 
is urged upon the unbelieving. The shrewdest Con- 
necticut vender of wooden nutmegs would own him- 
self no match for the insinuating sweetness of the 
Parisian shopwoman, or the fluent and tragic per- 
suasiveness of the tradesman, who lays his hand 
upon his heart, rolls up his eyes in fervent solemnity, 
and calls upon Heaven to witness his asseverations. 
There are so many brilliant shops, that one hardly 
knows which to enter; so many different prices, that 
one knows not how to avoid a mortifying degree of 
imposition ; so many qualities of the same article, 
that one has need of a minute chemical analysis to 
discover the slightly false from the completely true. 
We sometimes catch the contagion of that travel- 
ler's epidemic, the feverish desire of cheap shops ; 
when we hear the initiated tell of wonderful bar- 



00 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

gains, we are tempted to " go and do likewise," as 
the prices we have already paid rise up in judgment 
against us. And this, as we are hound in honor to 
confess, not from any feeling of avarice, hut from 
the affluence of temptation to purchase, which makes 
us hesitate ahout the price we pay for No. 1, that 
we may he able to purchase an equally fascinating 
No. 2, and even retain a prospective hold on No. 3. 
If we do not wish for all we see for ourselves, we 
are reminded of the tastes of our friends at a dis- 
tance, and would gladly take to them, in returning, 
that which, in purchasing, brought us a pleasant 
thought of home. And as the opportunities and 
the attractions of Paris rise far above the limits of 
any private purse, there is always room for, and 
temptation to, the exercise of a comparative econ- 
omy among travellers, so that the fact is assumed 
among them, and mutual assistance proffered with- 
out hesitation. Therefore we too occasionally pur- 
sued the myth of cheap shops, but with small suc- 
cess ; the El Dorado was ever unattainable, the oasis 
where we were to rest and riot in repleted pockets 
long before we had depleted our purses, was ever a 
mirage, — fair to the sight and graphically described 
by returning pilgrims, but still unattained by our 
weary feet. The locality of this wonderful region 
shifted about, too, strangely ; no two people directed 
us to the same spot, or allowed that we had ever 



SHOPPING IN PARIS. 91 

drawn near the hallowed precincts, though ever 
ready to show to onr astonished, eyes the trophies 
they had themselves brought back. We finally set- 
tled down in the conviction that these trophies were 
like the money of Dr. Faustus, and would, after a 
little, turn to worthless leaves and chips, — which 
conclusion had a wonderfully composing effect upon 
us. It is quite a general weakness in people to de- 
sire a decent reputation for shrewdness, and one's 
heroism is very seldom proof against the mortifi- 
cation of being completely taken in. One kind of 
satisfaction is, however, always attainable in a place 
like Paris, and that is, the purchase of beautiful 
objects at high prices. Elegant trifles of all sorts 
abound, for which a price is asked which at the first 
blush seems almost exorbitant ; but when, on closer 
examination, you discover the j)erfection of work- 
manship and the delicacy of fabric, the sum seems 
only proportionate to the quality of the article. 
There are many things to be had at a really cheaper 
rate than at home, but there arc superior grades of 
most articles which are valued at high rates. Facility 
of transportation has done much to equalize prices, 
especially of all manufactured goods ; and the time 
has gone by when travellers could purchase for a 
sixpence in one land that which would bring a 
crown in another. Occasional exceptions to this 
rule of course exist, but they are of rare occurrence, 



92 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

and daily grow less and less. This season especially 
is it the case, as we are told that prices are advanced 
a third on account of the Exposition, and doubtless 
it is so. In the matter of lodgings, and all house 
expenses, the difference is very great ; and perhaps 
the Parisians are no more to blame than others for 
making hay while the sun shines. They are cer- 
tainly very polite while they do it, and give back a 
part of your money in the shape of a package of 
delicate flattery. 

A drive through the venerable Rue du Temple, and 
a peep into the students' or " Latin" quarter, will 
be well for those who wish to see something more of 
Paris than is met on the Boulevards, the Champs 
Elysees, and among the residences of the great ones 
of the land. No greater contrast can be imagined 
than that between the spacious and airy Boulevards, 
where the fair sunshine falls on moving thousands 
with gay apparel and smiling faces, where the air 
is pure and the shops are cheerful, and the narrow 
and dismal streets, in which houses and shops are 
huddled together, and filth and reckless poverty 
reign paramount. The atmosphere weighs you 
down, as in some crowded market-place wherein 
the mingled odors of fish, flesh, and vegetables 
strive for pre-eminence. 

The new part of the Rue Rivoli owes its existence, 
as well as its splendor, to the present Emperor. To 



RUE DE RIVOLI. 93 

enlarge and extend the old street from the Place 
de la Concorde to the Place de la Bastille, in one 
broad, unbroken line, was a plan which many might 
conceive, but only an Emperor, in the plenitude of 
power, could successfully execute. It involved the 
taking down of more than a thousand houses, the 
removal of many old landmarks, the reconstruc- 
tion of new and superior edifices. This has all 
been accomplished, and now the superb street stands 
as a wonder in the world. In order to induce the 
erection of edifices of a uniform elegance, the taxes 
upon the buildings are remitted for a certain num- 
ber of years ; and the result of this liberal policy 
is a long line of elegant buildings, and a series 
of spacious arcades, which form a fitting vis-d-vis 
for the gardens of the Tuileries, the new front of 
the Louvre, and the Hotel de Ville. The Place de 
la Bastille forms a fine terminus for this noble 
thoroughfare. It covers the spot where the old 
prison stood, and in its centre rises the Column of 
July, beneath which lie the remains of the victims 
of the Revolution of 1830, about five hundred in 
number. 

The Sabbath-morning worship in the Madeleine 
cannot fail to produce deep impressions on the mind. 
The church is crowded with kneeling worshippers ; 
the perfume of incense floats towards us as we move 
near the altar; the solemn tones of the priest's 



9-i HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

voice break in upon, without disturbing, the still- 
ness. But presently the glorious organ bursts upon 
the hushed air, and swells through all the vast in- 
terior, echoing and re-echoing among the arches, till 
the storm of sound thrills the ear almost to pain. 
This dies away to soft sweet sounds, and then a pure 
soprano voice takes up a new strain, and soars 
higher and higher, till it seems to lose itself in the 
clouds. And again it is the loud Hosanna pealing 
forth its jubilant notes, or the full sweet tones of 
response that gush forth at intervals. Thousands 
are kneeling when the Host is raised ; costumes of 
every nation mingle in the throng ; the gorgeous 
vestments of the priests gleam around the altar ; 
the sacred candles burn ghastly in the light of day ; 
the huissier, or beadle, with richly-laced coat and 
breeches, and cocked hat, moves hither and thither 
with his staff of office in his hand ; people come in 
and wander round as at a show ; — and who of us, 
that are accustomed to the staid simplicity of Puri- 
tan worship, would fail to be impressed by this mag- 
nificent display, which is but the usual Sabbath 
ceremonial of the people ? — impressed deeply, but 
not as with the worship of One who " dwelleth not 
in temples made with hands," but as with any other 
ceremony in which music and magnificence unite to 
produce an almost bewildering, sensuous impression. 
The movement and bustle, the incongruity of spec- 



ROMISH WORSHIP. 95 

tators, the brilliant colors, win the mind from all 
attempt to retire within itself, and keep it constantly 
on the alert for something new. To the accustomed 
worshippers, however, it is not so ; they remain un- 
disturbed by the confusion, abstracted in their own 
devotions, and full of serenity in their long prayers. 
One of the chief attractions, after all, which the 
Romish worship possesses, comes from the transient 
mingling of rich with poor, and high with low, 
which is, in itself, symbolical. The coarse robe of 
the market-woman falls side by side with the rich 
silken folds of that of the wealthy boargeoise, the 
crippled old beggar kneels by the tall and graceful 
young man, the withered fingers of the decrepit hag- 
meet those of the fair young girl as they dip into 
the holy water, and it may be that the latter holds 
her rosy fingers dripping with the consecrated drops 
that the old woman behind her shall touch them 
with her own. Prayers rise up from hearts that in 
the world outside stand ever wide apart, — here at 
least they unite as the voices mingle. 

Five miles of railway take many thousands to 
St. Cloud when the fountains play, which, during 
the season of the Exposition, is on alternate Sun- 
days with Versailles. The expense of les grandes 
eaux at Versailles is so great, that in ordinary sea- 
sons they are seldom played ; but this summer is not 
an ordinary season for France, and she welcomes 



96 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

the thousands who come to her Fair with right im- 
perial magnificence. The fountains at St. Cloud 
are not so numerous or so expensive as those at 
Versailles, but the arrangement of them in cascades 
and basins is very pretty, and the Park itself is a 
place of enchantment on a summer's clay. Solitude 
is quite possible for you, though you know that 
there are fifty thousand people scattered over the 
grounds. Noble old elms and chestnuts lord it over 
the soil in long lines, and shade the broad, smooth 
avenues beneath with delicious coolness. The birds 
sing gayly, and the cascades plash gently, and the 
bright sun of Paris shines with crystal clearness, 
and all the people walk about with smiling faces 
and their gayest apparel. They are fortunate hi 
having a St. Cloud to go to, and having attended 
morning mass, and got through their devotions com- 
fortably, they feel that the rest of the Sabbath be- 
longs to them to spend as they please. And after 
all, some of them spend it very quietly under these 
trees, and have great satisfaction in their family 
picnics, in which father, mother, and little ones are 
together out in the fresh air till sunset. 

The Palace is a most fascinating place, and seems 
more attractive from not being quite so interminable 
as some of the other enormous edifices through 
which we have been. Also, from being a favorite 
residence of the present Emperor, and always kept 



PALACE OP ST. CLOUD. 97 

in readiness for his immediate occupation, it retains 
a cheerful, homelike look throughout. Its details 
are very superb, and the stores of Gobelin tapes- 
try are quite indescribable, from their profusion and 
richness. The furniture is nearly all covered with 
this tapestry, and couches and chairs glow with such 
flowers that you bend down involuntarily to breathe 
their perfume, and then turn away, quite satisfied with 
the reflection, that, if they have not the fragrance, 
they have not the fragility of living blossoms, and 
will outlast the fairest roses and lilies of the garden. 
Many of the larger pieces of tapestry which line the 
walls are copies of Rubens, and magnificent beyond 
description, while the ceilings of these beautiful sa- 
loons are, to my thinking, by far the finest we have 
seen. The Gallery of Apollo is itself worthy of a 
day's study. In many of the rooms are exquisite 
vases of Sevres porcelain, cabinets of buhl and mo- 
saics, and the billiard-room looked as if quite ready 
to welcome even royal players. 

The historical associations with St. Cloud are ex- 
tremely numerous and interesting. It was pre- 
sented by Louis XIV. to his brother, the Duke of 
Orleans, in 1658, and remained in the family till 
Louis XVI. purchased it for Marie Antoinette, who 
took great delight in its beauty. Many of her hap- 
piest days were spent here. Napoleon also liked 
the place, and spent much of his time here, and 

9 G 



98 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

Charles X. was residing here when the Revolution 
of 1830 broke out. The paintings and the saloons 
and the old elms care little for these changing 
dynasties, and, so far, each successive one has loved 
to add to the splendor of the place. Long may it 
remain, to delight the thousands for whom it finds 
ample welcome ! 

The pleasure of our expedition to St. Cloud was 
much enhanced by the presence of two or three 
American friends, and the day was so delightful, 
and we commenced its pleasures in such excellent 
season, that, after a short consultation under the 
rest-inviting trees of the Park, we decided to spend 
the whole day together out of doors, and to deviate a 
little from the crowded highways, and see a French 
Sabbath in its more quiet village aspect. One of the 
party, having spent many years in Paris, and being 
quite familiar with all the necessary minutice, as- 
sumed the command, and the rest resigned them- 
selves with unquestioning docility to his guidance. 
Having spent as much time as we wished at the 
palace, we took the cars for Rueil, where, de- 
scending into an intense quietude, we made a 
reverent pilgrimage to the little church in which 
rest the remains of Josephine and Hortense. The 
church has been allowed to fall into decay, but the 
Emperor is piously restoring it, stone for stone, to 
its original condition, and erelong his mother and 



THE BANKS OF THE SEINE. 99 

grandmother will be enshrined as they should be. 
Their tombs have received little injury from the 
hand of time. 

After spending half an hour in the church, where, 
by the way, the workmen were as busy as on 
any week-day, we emerged into the quaint little 
village, which looked as if it had just awakened 
from a nap of fifty years' duration, and where our 
procession seemed to attract the attention of the few 
inhabitants that were visible. This place appeared 
at first quite impracticable for travellers, but in a 
few moments our indefatigable chaperon appeared 
with a barouche large enough to hold the whole 
party, — produced, as I verily believe, by much the 
same process as Cinderella's state coach, — and we 
were all driven at a pleasant rate over the pretty 
country road, every step of the horses bringing us 
to some new view of country scenery, as still and 
peaceful as though far remote from all thought of 
a great city. We passed the chateau of Malmaison, 
which hides itself behind embowering trees, and 
whose grounds are surrounded by a wall of most 
provoking height. Its present owner, Christina, 
ex-queen of Spain, jealously excludes visitors from 
her domain. Along the bank of the quiet Seine 
our carriage ambled over the smooth hard road, till 
we came to the tiny village of Bougival. Here, as 
the day was declining, we stopped at a little auberge 



100 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

to dine. And dine we did in right rural style, in a 
room with sanded floor and wooden benches, eating 
the delicious little fishes for which the place is 
famous, and which are freshly caught for the im- 
mediate delectation of the guest, or tiny chicken 
of most tender growth, with haricots verts of most 
verdant aspect, snowy bread, and strawberries fresh- 
ly picked, and of such size as to require cutting to 
make them manageable. 

After dinner was over, as fit continuation of a 
rural expedition, we stepped into a boat at the 
river's brink, and were rowed gently down the 
stream. The sunset hues were fading from the 
sky, the long twilight, which lasts now till after 
nine, softened the outlines of everything about us, 
and subdued the coloring to a cool gray tint. The 
green shores close at hand were however still gay 
with scarlet poppies, and populous with many 
groups returning home across the fields. On one 
side was a little village clustering as if for pro- 
tection around the stout stone church, on the other 
three men and two women were lazily dragging a 
canal boat through the water, and gave us a coarse 
but cordial greeting as we passed. For three miles 
of distance and innumerable miles of thought we 
glided over the sweet river in dreamy silence, and 
then landed in the middle of a green field, through 
which a little footpath led us to a railway station. 



APPROACH TO THE CITY. 101 

Night was closing in around us as we climbed to 
the top of the cars, where a few seats were obtain- 
able, and from which elevation a fine view of the 
approach to the city by night finished up the sights 
of the day in fitting style. This is indeed worth 
seeing, for the countless lights which gleam from 
all the streets, and make of the great city a mass 
half shadow and half stars, which dance about and 
quiver and exchange places continually, as our own 
motion makes us look at it from a different angle, 
form a fascinating and peculiar picture. As we en- 
ter the vast Debarcadere, brilliantly lighted through 
its whole extent, we pause to watch the unloading 
of the twenty passenger-cars which make up our 
train, — and for a few moments we see a busy scene ; 
but soon the crowd has dispersed, and we, with the 
last lingerers, emerge from the building and wend 
our way homewards. Certainly, to look at Paris on 
such days as this, one would imagine that the main 
object in the life of all its inhabitants was to find 
amusement, and rattle off time in the most careless 
manner. A Parisian crowd is really a very gay- 
looking affair, and there is such an air of neatness 
and cheerfulness about everybody, that the effect is 
highly exhilarating. When to the good-natured 
faces and jaunty little figures of the people arc 
added the gayety of the country resorts and the bril- 
liant sunshine which floods everything with light, a 

9* 



102 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

most picturesque whole is obtained ; and whatever 
may be said of the moral aspect of a Parisian Sun- 
day, the artist, at least, may find in it many a pic- 
ture worth painting. There is perfect freedom, too, 
to spend the day in any way most in consonance 
with an individual's tastes, and no one is obliged to 
desecrate the Lord's day. There are churches open 
where reverent worship is performed, there are 
quiet places where one may meditate, and there are 
one's own rooms from which all temptation may be 
shut out. And it is only in one or two instances, 
as at St. Cloud and Versailles, that anything may 
be seen more favorably on Sunday than on other 
days, so that, as a general thing, the traveller's 
Sunday in Paris is as completely under his own 
care as it could be anywhere. Nobody mourns if 
you spend it ever so badly, but nobody objects if 
you spend it ever so well. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Hotel dc Cluny. — Manufactory of Gobelin Tapestry. — Jardin dcs 
Plantes. — Italian Opera, and Opera Comique. — Hotel de Ville. — 
Hippodrome and " La Crimee." — Pere la Chaise. — Parisian Sab- 
baths. — Bois de Boulogne. — Chapel of St. Ferdinand. — The Louvre. 
— Rachel at the Theatre Francais. 

The Hotel dc Cluny, now used as a museum, 
contains within its walls, themselves most interest- 
ing, thousands of rare and curious things, collected 
with patient care, and preserved from year to year 
for the satisfaction of all who enjoy the inspection 
of antiquities. The old mansion itself begins the 
story of the olden days, and, with its dark wain- 
scots, its massive chimney-pieces, its beamed ceil- 
ings, and its well-worn floors, prepares the visitor 
for the accumulation of venerable furniture, an- 
cient tapestry, and primitive china, which fill the 
gloomy rooms. So many of the articles thus ac- 
cumulated have been connected with illustrious 
names, and their history is so well authenticated, 
that a double interest attaches to them. The origi- 
nal collection, made by Monsieur Sommerard, has 
been increased by government, and is now very 
large. The Hotel was built in 1505, by the then 



104 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

Abbot of Cluny, and the chapel pertaining to it is a 
fine architectural specimen. The vault rests upon 
a single pillar. The most incongruous articles are 
of course to be met with, and the consequence is, 
that the attention does not flag in the examination, 
but is ever attracted by some quite new object. 
There are a great many chambers, and the cata- 
logue forms a large volume. Some of the articles 
could be found nowhere but in France, and that, to 
the initiated, is saying quite enough in their descrip- 
tion. Some of the specimens of wood-carving are 
marvellous in spirit and workmanship ; and the col- 
lection of ancient china is very complete. It takes 
a very long visit to get much idea of this multifari- 
ous assemblage of indescribables and oddities, of 
antiquities and celebrities, of beautiful and of re- 
volting articles. 

Through the old court-yard the descent is made 
into the ruins of the Roman baths, where we find 
even older associations than in the Hotel itself. 
They date back to the time of the Emperor Julian, 
and formed a part of his palace. The stone baths 
resemble the coffins of a race of giants, and the con- 
fused arrangement of the covering slabs suggests 
the idea that the sleepers must have risen in a great 
hurry from their uncomfortable beds. 

We make a long visit to the " Manufacture des 
Gobelins," and our drive thither takes us through 



GOBELIN TAPESTRY. 105 

many quaint old streets. It is difficult to believe 
that these beautiful pictures, glowing with all the 
hues of life, and shaded with almost more than an 
artist's delicacy, are in reality the work of the 
needle. The best paintings of ancient and modern 
art are copied here with the most extraordinary 
fidelity. Strangers are allowed to see the workmen 
at their work, but the chemical processes by which 
their most wonderful colors are obtained are kept 
secret. The workmen sit toiling on through the 
long hours, with their big baskets of many-colored 
wool beside them, and sometimes the needle fur- 
nishes but a single stitch before being laid aside for 
another tint. The pattern hangs above and behind 
the artist, and he sees only the uninteresting back 
of his canvas, — one is tempted to wish it trans- 
parent for his sake. Wonderful carpets are making 
in other rooms ; six years of time, and a dozen 
men, being a moderate allowance for the comple- 
tion of one. 

Any one who has a week to devote expressly to 
the purpose, may attempt the Jardin des Plantes 
with some faint expectation of thereby obtaining 
an idea of its extent and contents. Otherwise the 
effort is almost useless ; for a day only suggests 
what there is to be seen, and a rapid survey is 
merely tantalizing, in opening up innumerable vistas 
through which one desires to penetrate. What shall 



106 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

be done with all the attractions of the botanical de- 
partment, or the miner alogical, geological, anatomi- 
cal divisions ? How shall we get away from the 
gardens, wherein blossoms every flower out of Para- 
dise, to look at the museums loaded with the spoils 
of the animal and vegetable kingdoms, or find time 
for the noble library, with its portfolios of draw- 
ings and paintings of fruits and flowers ? In the 
enclosures are living and thriving specimens of all 
wild and all tame animals, from the giraffe and 
Polar bear, and their handsome cousin, the hippo- 
potamus, to the monkey and the bantam chicken. 
Boa-constrictors squirm about venomously under 
their blankets, lizards glide over the walls of their 
cabinets with slippery ease, and parrots chatter next 
door to stately eagles, who glare fiercely at us witli 
their hungry eyes. Forest-trees wave their branches, 
and tell us that they come from every zone ; and we 
rest beneath the dense shadow of the magnificent 
cedar of Lebanon, which has made a home for itself 
iii foreign soil, and has stood here since the year 
1735. The botanical department cultivates over 
twelve hundred different species of plants ; the 
specimens of the animal kingdom number more 
than a hundred and fifty thousand ; the ana- 
tomical reckons over fifteen thousand ; and the 
minerals mount to a round hundred thousand. 
Now, what can people, who do not intend to de- 



EVENING AMUSEMENTS. 107 

vote a long lifetime to the study of any of these 
branches of knowledge, do in the presence of such 
an appalling array ? "What we did was, to walk for 
a few hours among the perfumed flowers, pay our 
respects to the most wonderful animals, shake our 
heads doubtfully at the long rooms full of stuffed 
horrors and inanimate specimens, and take in, as 
well as we could, an idea of the vastness and com- 
pleteness of the whole, reading over, in the books 
of reference therefor appointed, the figures which 
represent mathematically an array of which nothing 
else can give one an idea, and which I quote as pos- 
sibly to be of the same service to my readers. 

Cruvclli is singing at the Opera on alternate 
nights with Alboni, so that we are never at a loss 
for an evening's pleasure. Then there is the Opera 
Comique, which is now in magnificent order, while 
theatres of all sorts open inviting doors if we turn 
our faces thitherward, which to tell the truth we 
rarely do. Yet there is always something pleasant 
to do on these summer evenings, and time never 
hangs heavy, even if we only walk upon the Boule- 
vards, or stroll into Tortoni's to take an ice and 
some oublis. 

On Thursdays the public arc permitted to see the 
sumptuous apartments of the Hotel de Ville, — 
the grand reception-rooms where the city enter- 
tains her guests, and which, it is said, rival in 



108 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

costliness the palaces of the Emperor himself. The 
balls given here have a world-wide reputation. 
The exterior is a fine specimen of the Renaissance 
architecture. Its complete isolation from all the 
surrounding buildings adds much to the effect, and 
allows all four of the fronts to be seen to advantage. 
The whole edifice within and without is redolent 
of the great events which have transpired in the 
shadow of its walls. The Salle du Tr6ne is vast 
and gorgeous, as throne rooms should be. Then 
there is the room where Robespierre held his coun- 
cil, and where he made his unsuccessful attempt at 
suicide. From one window we seem to see, first 
the face of Louis XVI. with the fatal red cap 
upon his blanched brow, and that image fades away 
to give place to the forms of Lafayette and Louis 
Philippe, who embrace in the presence of the crowd 
assembled beneath. The ball-rooms are magnifi- 
cently furnished, and upholstery seems to have 
reached its utmost point of perfection in the rich 
hangings of damask and brocade. The grand stair- 
cases are also of the finest, both as regards spacious- 
ness and grace. The Place de Greve, in front of 
the Hotel de Ville, retains no traces of all the blood 
which has flowed over its pavement, — the scarlet 
stream of the noblest, or the muddy current of the 
lowest, has not left its sign, save in the memory 
of those who come to look upon a spot of so much 



THE HIPPODROME. 109 

painful interest. And the people forget these things 
nearly as thoroughly as the stones do, and a shower 
seems to wash out the one stain, and a wave of revo- 
lution to obliterate the other, with equal ease. And 
the sumptuous Hotel de Yille opens its vast halls, 
and lights up its painted ceilings, its marble pillars 
and gilded cornices and plate-glass and golden 
fringes and polished floors, and welcomes by turns 
the favorites of the hour, caring no more for those 
that have passed away into the shadow of death 
or misfortune, than for those who may yet ap- 
pear in the unknown future. It can have its ten 
thousand guests whenever it chooses to issue its 
invitations, and one ten thousand will come in the 
same pomp of adornment as another, no matter 
who reigns, — King Mob or Emperor Louis Na- 
poleon. 

At the Hippodrome we go to see " La Crimee," 
where Sebastopol is daily besieged. We sit down 
in the open air, but with comfortable awnings over- 
head, and a pleasant breeze sweeping over the vast 
amphitheatre, and behold a great naval engagement 
and a great land battle, in which the Russians are 
" knocked into the middle of next week " by the truly 
fraternal efforts of the English and French armies. 
It is really gotten up on a grand scale, and very pop- 
ular with the people. The government sends some 
two thousand troops to assist in the representation, 
10 



110 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

and of course the sham-fighting is done in the most 
scientific style. An immense amount of gunpowder 
is disposed of, and the cannonading and musketry 
are quite deafening. The cavalry dashes hither and 
thither, the infantry inarches in serried ranks, the 
artillery flashes fire and smoke, and we feel as if we 
had seen something very like a battle when the per- 
formance is over. To come out from all this mimic 
war, and find the sun setting in calm splendor be- 
hind clouds of crimson and gold, is to feel the force 
of contrast very strongly. 

In Pere la Chaise there is much to interest, but 
much to disappoint. The grounds are so crowded 
and confused, and many of the monuments in such 
bad taste, that the mind is too much annoyed at the 
incongruities to be able to appreciate immediately 
the really inalienable sacredness of the place. There 
is such a lack of solemnity in many of the odd as- 
semblages of funereal ornament, that a thought of 
reverence which arises at one grave is changed into 
a smile at the next. But there are illustrious dead 
here, at sight of whose tombs every sentiment of 
reverence is awakened, and before whose names, 
sculptured in the marble above their remains, we 
bow in deep homage. This city of the dead boasts 
of an aristocracy of peerless names, and is rich in 
all the associations of heroism, of beauty, and of ro- 
mance. How many a gentle thought has found its 



PERE LA CHAISE. Ill 

birth-liour before the tomb of Abelard and Heloisc, 
as it stands there from year to year, the image of an 
imperishable thought, the record of an ever fresh 
and ever glowing passion ! The coldest bosom feels 
a transient glow, the least romantic thrills for a 
moment with the depth of this tragic memory, and 
poetry awakens in the most prosaic breast. 

The immense number of persons interred here, 
and the vast range and variety of interest which 
attaches to their names, wearies the most patient vis- 
itor. We find noble and plebeian, wise man and 
fool, beauty and ugliness, virtue and vice, in much 
the same pell-mell state that they existed when their 
owners possessed the power of locomotion. We have 
Talma and the shoemaker of Mademoiselle d' Or- 
leans, Breguet the watchmaker and Dupuytren the 
surgeon, Madame Cottin and Madame Blancharcl, 
the poor aeronaut, Marshal Ney and Molierc, La 
Fontaine and La Place, and so on, in hopeless confu- 
sion of age and rank, till many thousand tombs are 
numbered, and the whole gamut of good and great, 
of small and mean, of true and false, has been run 
over. The pleasantest feature of the whole thing, 
after all, is the one pertaining to all French burial- 
places, — the evidence of the recent presence of the 
living among the dead as shown in the fresh flowers 
and the immortelle wreaths which decorate the tombs 
even when many years have passed since the dead 



112 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

have reposed in their last sleep. It imparts a gen- 
tler aspect to the funereal chapels to see fresh flowers 
blossoming within, and even the tawdry ornaments 
that disfigure many lose a portion of their ugliness, 
and become transfigured, in the light of the loving 
thought which brought them hither. 

I have said something of the freedom of a Paris- 
ian Sabbath, and the impression which this freedom 
makes deepens with each recurrence of the day, and 
assumes stronger and more distinctive meaning to 
the thoughtful observer. The heart of an Amer- 
ican, even though he lay no special claim to re- 
ligious temper, grows sick for that season of quiet 
rest which soothes the turmoil and relaxes the ten- 
sion of our home cities. Apart from the positive 
worship and aspiration of the day, as it shows itself 
to the really Christian heart, there is a negative 
value in its universal observance in a community, 
of which many in that community need to be de- 
prived in order to realize how very much it was to 
them after all. It is so wearisome to have the seven 
days so much alike, — the mornings all noisy, the 
noontide always toilsome, and the evening always 
riotous with mirth. We walk out from our rooms 
to go to the Oratoire, where many Protestants attend 
service, and where we may hear the faith of Geneva 
preached in the language of Voltaire. We find it 
more of an effort to keep our thoughts in the health- 



SUNDAY IN PARIS. 113 

ful and serene tone they had at starting, when we 
must meet, on our way to church, a band of sol- 
diers or a crush of carts, omnibuses full of people 
and pleasure-carriages crowded, workmen busy on 
buildings and traffickers showing their wares on 
the sidewalks, than if we fell in with long ranks 
of worshippers wending their decorous way on the 
same errand as ourselves. True, the churches are 
patronized in their turn also, and many of them are 
filled with kneeling worshippers ; but they pray their 
brief prayers, and then rush forth to find more conge- 
nial employment in the most reckless gayety. They 
go to Versailles, or, if that is too quiet, to Asnieres, 
and dance and frolic as if there were no such thin 2; 
as self-denial, labor, or suffering, — they enjoy the 
most superficial amusement, as if there were no 
death, no heaven, and no rest. All is a turmoil of 
jDleasure-seeking, and pleasure seems to be found by 
Frenchmen in what to most Americans, even of the 
least refined classes, would be the most stupid and 
uninteresting of employments. To those who look 
deeper than the outside, there is no great tempta- 
tion in all this ; but to the very young, or the very 
thoughtless, or the very weak, there is danger. 

This is a subject, however, of too great importance 

to be disposed of in light argument, but comes with 

fresh force upon the mind of every traveller newly 

removed from the protecting conventionalisms of 

10* 11 



114 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

another country, and awakens similar reflections 
every time the attention is directed towards it. It 
seems sad that the wise proportion of seriousness 
and of cheerfulness in thought and action should be 
so unattainable in a community, and that the Sab- 
bath should be made either a wearisome day to per- 
sons unaccustomed to enjoy thought, or a season of 
riot and blasphemy. Will the political economists 
ever find the way to make the seventh day, not only 
a day of rest from physical toil, but one of mental 
pleasure and of moral growth, to those who can- 
not keep awake through preachings, even if they 
are stimulated into going where they are to be 
preached to ? 

The Bois de Boulogne, famous alike as a drive 
and a duelling-ground for the city, is a very charm- 
ing place in many respects, and of almost incalcula- 
ble value to a huge and populous city like Paris. It 
acts as lungs to the great metropolis, and although 
in this respect Paris is better off than many other 
cities, having her Champs Elysees, her Tuileries and 
Luxembourg gardens, and her many squares, yet a 
large and unconfined area like the Bois de Boulogne 
can alone supply oxygen sufficient for so large a 
body corporate. Its whole population may come out 
here, if it choose, and find " ample room and verge 
enough " beneath the trees, and on the crisp, short 
turf. You may drive all day among the carriage- 



BOIS DE BOULOGNE. 115 

paths, with little need of going twice over the same 
ground, and every evening, from seven till ten, you 
will meet thousands of carriages of all descriptions, 
from the barouche of the Emperor to the meanest 
fiacre that can be found in the streets of Paris to 
take up a family group that only seldom allows 
itself the recreation of a promenade en voiture. It 
is a favorite drive also of the Empress, when she 
is in Paris, and her sweet face may be met here 
nearly every pleasant evening at sunset. The arti- 
ficial lake is very pretty, and all the numerous and 
expensive improvements which the present Emperor 
has made in this " Hyde Park of Paris " tend to 
increase the natural attractiveness of the spot. Its 
chief deficiency is in variety of surface, — it is too 
tamely pretty. A few acres of our wild American 
rough country would be worth millions, transplanted 
to the serene quietude of the Bois de Boulogne. Is 
even this too daring a speculation for " an enter- 
prising Yankee " ? 

It is a fine sight in the evening to see the long 
lines of carriages going to and from the Bois, over 
the broad avenue of the Champs Elyse'es. The 
beauty, rank, and fashion of the Empire are there, 
and the rest of the world comes to look upon them. 
From the Place de la Concorde to the Arc de l'Etoile, 
unbroken lines of carriages move up and down over 
the smooth and spacious road, while the sidewalks 



116 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

are gay with people who promenade about or sit be- 
neath the sheltering trees. As you come home from 
your drive, when night falls around you, the effect of 
the view you get, as you descend the slight slope of 
the avenue, is quite unique. For the whole of the 
mile-long path is filled with two lines of serpentine 
and quivering shapes, which at first puzzle the eye 
in the obscurity of evening. They are simply the 
carriages going and returning ; but as the vehicles 
going in the same direction with yourself present 
an unvarying blackness of perspective, their lamps 
being invisible behind, while the approaching ser- 
pent wreathes himself in a double line of fire, and 
seems to emit flames from his mouth, one may be 
pardoned for not immediately comprehending the 
element of mingled fire and gloom into which he 
is apparently plunging. This main avenue of the 
Champs Elyse*es is a promenade of truly imperial 
grandeur, — a mile in length and more than a hun- 
dred feet in width, with ample sidewalks on either 
hand, its course as straight as an arrow's flight, and 
the view from either end quite unobstructed, so that 
one can stand by the Egyptian obelisk and see the 
grand mass of the Arc de l'Etoile raise its cathedral- 
like proportions against the western sky, or, revers- 
ing the process, look from the Arch of Triumph to 
where the slender shaft of granite stands out against 
the green trees of the gardens of the Tuilerics. 



CHAPEL OF ST. FERDINAND. 117 

Near one of the principal entrances to the Bois 
de Boulogne is the little chapel of St. Ferdinand, 
erected over the place where the Duke of Orleans, 
the son of Louis Philippe and the idol of the people, 
breathed his last, after having been thrown from his 
carriage on his way to Neuilly. It is a solemn 
place, and full of sad interest ; the chapel is simple 
in architecture and small in size, being fifty feet long 
only. The altar stands just where he lay while 
dying, and a marble group on one side of the room 
represents the death-scene. At the head of the 
dying man kneels the beautiful angel sculptured by 
the Princess Marie, the Duke's sister. There is also 
a painting of the same event, which is valuable for 
the number of portraits it contains. A little " pray- 
ing-chair," belonging to the Count of Paris, stands 
quietly there, as if waiting for the return of its 
owner, and near it, those of Louis Philippe and the 
Queen. These chairs are covered with embroidery, 
the work of the mother and sister of the deceased 
Duke. In one room stands a clock, whose hands 
point ever to the hour when the Duke fell, and 
knows henceforth no other moment than the " ten 
minutes before twelve " it has marked so long; while 
in another room, another clock marks " ten minutes 
past four " as the fatal moment when the Prince 
ceased to breathe. The place seems deserted and 
lonely now, but is kept in perfect order and neat- 



118 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

ness, though none of the kindred of the beloved 
dead can visit him longer, as he lies in his last 
sleep, safe from all storm of revolution, undisturbed 
by the flight of kings or the accession of emperors. 

In leaving the Louvre, so long unspoken of, it is 
not meant to imply that we were not early and 
often drawn to its noble galleries ; but rather, 
that I shrink back, hopeless, from the attempt 
even to arrange my own impressions. Each suc- 
cessive visit reveals more and more to be ad- 
mired, to be studied, almost to be feared, so mighty 
is the magnetic force of some of its art creations. 
To those who have stood face to face with its treas- 
ures, the very mention of its name says more than 
all wordy description, while those who have not seen 
it can get but a faint idea of its wealth. Visited by 
way of contrast with the modern gallery in the 
Palais des Beaux Arts of the Exposition Univer' 
selle, we came to a fuller comprehension of the dif- 
ference between the grand ideality of the old mas- 
ters, and the fresh naturalness of the later artists, 
and learned something of the separate excellences of 
each. A nicer connoisseurship may venture to com- 
pare, and even to assign precedence, — we were con- 
tent to enjoy both heartily. 

Although admission to the Louvre, and all its 
innumerable museums and galleries, is free, — and 
although here, as at Versailles, you are allowed 



RACHEL. 119 

to riot iii the wealth of paintings and of statuary 
any day and all day, so that you do not call on 
Monday, when the apartments are swept and dusted, 
and made ready for visitors again, — yet the French 
government is not utterly without an income from 
these places, wherewith to cover the outlay required 
to keep them in order. The annual sale of cata- 
logues amounts to four hundred thousand francs, 
and the deposition, at the doors, of canes and um- 
brellas averages one hundred thousand francs more. 
But the liberality which opens these mines of enjoy- 
ment to the public is beyond praise, and the de- 
meanor of the visitors shows that it is thoroughly 
appreciated. 

As if for our especial delectation, Mademoiselle 
Rachel determines to give six representations at the 
Theatre Francais, the scene of her innumerable 
triumphs, the kingdom wherein she has so long 
reigned supreme. It is said that the increasing 
fame of Madame RAstori has awakened Rachel's 
jealousy, and that, knowing how readily the fickle 
Parisians transfer their homage from one idol to 
another, she will show them in a brief glance how 
immeasurably beyond others she really is. Be this 
as it may, we rejoice at such a piece of good fortune 
for ourselves, since Rachel at the Theatre Francais 
is twice Rachel anywhere else. The house is filled 
each night with an audience which hangs in breath- 



120 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

less silence on each word she litters ; and the ap- 
plause at the close, though less vociferous than that 
which often bursts from an American crowd, is of 
that concentrated and intense kind which speaks 
plainest of the complete satisfaction which fills the 
listener's mind. No one can forget Rachel ; and no 
one who has seen her can fairly convey, to one who 
has not, an adequate idea of the mastery she holds 
over a sympathetic audience. That slight form, 
thin almost to painfulness ; that pale, sad face, lit 
up with those eyes by turns so fiercely gleaming and 
so sweetly soft ; those features, so mobile and pos- 
sessing such infernal capacity of expression ; those 
gestures, so queenly and so classic, so commanding 
and so pleading ; — all, once seen, are imprinted for- 
ever on the memory. I do not believe there ever 
Avas a human face which could so completely belie 
in one moment the tale it told the moment before. 
The passionate vehemence of one thought chased 
away by a flash of loving sweetness, the calm de- 
spair, the lowering and pitiless hate, the revengeful 
glitter of the eyes, the waving of her white arm 
with graceful motion, or the lifting of the thin 
finger with its menace, each follows the other, 
and each in its turn thrills the hearts of those who 
watch this most wonderful of actresses, this most 
incomprehensible of women. There is a portrait of 
her in the Exposition, which possesses, to a remark- 



RACHEL. 121 

able degree, the fascination, so powerful yet so name- 
less, of the face itself. Without beauty, it will hold 
the eye and fill the imagination as long and as 
powerfully as the fairest face that smiles from the 
canvas ; and the memory of those eyes, placed so 
near each other, and lighted with such unearthly 
fires, will haunt the memory when sweeter visions 
have faded out of sight. The thought of Lamia 
never left me, in contemplating this picture, and 
often recurred to me in gazing at Rachel herself ; I 
doubt if I should have been surprised to see the 
woman's form gliding into the serpent's skin at any 
moment. The glittering coils, the forked tongue, 
the hissing whisper, and the deadly eye, could not 
more successfully suggest the possible venom of the 
thought. She seemed not so much a tragic actress 
as Tragedy herself ; and though others may re- 
tain coolness enough to separate the art from the 
artist, and to trace the working of mechanical ef- 
fects, I confess that she swept me along so fiercely 
in the gusts of her passion, or subdued me so com- 
pletely by the alternations of her mood, that I forgot 
even to attempt criticism, or to pause in examination. 
The severe and naked simplicity with which the 
classic dramas were produced, so unlike the usual 
magnificence of theatrical display, only heightened 
the sublimity of the effect; and the excellence of 
the other actors allowed the spectator to resign him- 
11 



122 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

self, without distraction or nervousness, to the full 
enjoyment of Rachel's every motion, every look, and 
every tone. The theatre has seats for twelve hun- 
dred persons, and on no occasion are more allowed 
to enter, so that comfort and order are never dis- 
turbed. During the time that Rachel was playing, 
it was necessary to register your name a clay or two 
before the performances, and when your name was 
reached in the list, your tickets were attainable, 
but not before. We learned the method fortunately 
in ample season. 

But Paris is not all the world, nor even all which 
we hope to see this sunny summer, so we put our 
large trunks in a friend's room for safe-keeping, 
and, with the necessary luggage arranged in the most 
portable manner, we prepare to invade Holland, and 
follow " the Kickleburys up the Rhine." We must 
be busy travellers if we would see the Alps, and get 
a glimpse of Northern Italy, and be back in Paris 
when Queen Victoria arrives. Rome and Florence 
are tabooed by cholera, and we are warned even 
against Milan. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Journey to Brussels. — Great Religious Festival. — Historical Associa- 
tions awakened by wandering about the City. — Museum and Private 
Picture-Galleries. — Lace Manufactories. — Zoological Gardens and 
Sunday Concerts al Fresco. — Field of Waterloo. — Antwerp. — Ca- 
thedral and Famous Paintings. — Docks of Antwerp. — Admirable 
Hotel. — Passage to Rotterdam. 

We left Paris at nine in the morning for Brussels. 
We east very loving looks about us during our drive 
to the station, for we have acquired a degree of 
home feeling here in this big city, quite beyond what 
the time we have spent in it seems sufficient to ac- 
count for. But we had glided at once, and with- 
out effort, into a pleasant daily routine, and lived 
such a busy life of enjoyment and of independence, 
that each day had done its part towards making 
us familiar with all that was about us, and assimi- 
lating us with our foreign surroundings. It is 
only in the two extremes of very large city and of 
very small village that a stranger is allowed to com- 
mence this sort of instantaneous citizenship ; in the 
first he gains it through immunity from questioning, 
and from the similarity of his position to that of a 



124 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

thousand others who are, like himself, absorbed into 
invisibility by the rapid and inattentive motion of 
the city machinery ; in the latter he gains it by 
being welcomed into the small circle by the volun- 
tary movement of the individuals composing it, who 
rejoice at an accession, and quickly induct him into 
all the mysteries of local gossip, and invest him with 
all the honors of villagedom. 

The railway passes through a pretty and genial- 
looking country, though monotonous in its general 
effect. But that must be a forlorn soil indeed which 
cannot cover itself with some beauty in the month 
of July, and respond in some fashion to the wooing 
gaze of the sun. The growing harvests are ripening 
around us ; the vast fields, unbroken by the unsight- 
ly fences, wherewith we Americans so love to define 
our " lots," are green with grasses, or glowing with 
waving grain. The hay is making in many places 
as we pass, and the crop seems to be wonderfully 
abundant. During the journey, which takes rather 
more than ten hours, we had ample opportunities 
for seeing the chief features of the country, in spite 
of the disadvantage of travelling by rail. But unless 
a country is hilly, and you alternate from deep cuts 
to short and unexpected glimpses up and down 
ravines, you can gain very fair, and sometimes very 
distant, views from your rapid conveyance. There 
is a charm in these railway panoramas : you do not 



RAILWAY TRAVELLING. 125 

see even the tame pictures long enough to get weary 
of them, and a keen, quick eye will manage to dis- 
cern all the salient points of the more picturesque 
and agreeable views. Besides, when a traveller 
meets anything on the road which is peculiarly at- 
tractive to his individual nature, he should come to 
a full stop and enjoy it to the utmost ; and that he 
can do as well if he travel by steam as by horse- 
power. The ease and rapidity with which we arc 
Avafted over spaces of uninteresting country is just 
so much advantage when one wishes to stop, and, 
compared with the older and slower methods of 
travelling, the railway actually makes you a present 
of a part of your time, — a circumstance to which 
people who consider travelling one of the " lost 
arts " do not attach sufficient importance. 

We were detained a long while at Valenciennes 
for the examination of passports and luggage. This 
process was tedious to us all, and quite exasperating 
to some, if one may judge from the expression on 
some of the passengers' faces as they returned to 
the cars from having their trunks and boxes unmer- 
cifully tossed over. We however found the officers 
very polite and obliging, and a civil word to one of 
them procured me the privilege of remaining in the 
car, where I had a pleasant view to look out on, and 
could enjoy the effect of a heavy shower on the trees 
and fields, instead of having a more practical reali- 
11* 



126 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

zation of it in a walk to the forlorn and cheerless 
custom-house. There was ample time to " read 
up" in our hand-book concerning Valenciennes, and 
to remember that it was the birthplace of Watteau 
and honest old Froissart. The uncertainty as to 
the moment of starting, however, prevented us from 
attempting any expedition, even if the muddiness of 
the ground in our immediate vicinity had not made 
the enterprise difficult. 

We entered Brussels at the hour of sunset, and 
after a short drive up a steep hill arrived at the Ho- 
tel de Belle Vue on the beautiful Place Koyale. A 
capital dinner refreshed us so much that we were 
able to spend a large part of the evening in strolling 
about, and to get our first impressions of Belgium 
by moonlight. A night of sound sleep enjoyed to 
the utmost succeeded the labors and fatigues of 
the day. 

The morning sun rises bright and clear, and 
promises a glorious day for the grand church festi- 
val on which we are so fortunate as to have happened. 
My Lord Cardinal consecrates to-day a bran-new 
image of the Virgin Mary, and great will be the 
pomp in which this ceremony will be carried on. 
But before we enter upon this special performance, 
we take a long and pleased look from our windows. 
Our room is in the front of the house, and looks over 
the area of the Place Royale, with its handsome statue 



BRUSSELS. 127 

of Godfrey of Bouillon, who seems to regard us very 
benignantly as we offer him the compliments of the 
morning ; while on our left rises the imposing front 
of the Church of St. James. Our elevated position 
gives us a deliciously pure air, and the sunshine lies 
lovingly on the broad pavements of the Place before 
us, the said pavements looking nearly as neat as a 
lady's parlor, and everything in sight of our windows 
having a marvellously orderly appearance. 

Our breakfast is taken at the table dliote, and we 
find that the hotel is very full, for we are in the height 
of the travelling season, and just now on the high road 
to the interior of the Continent. A large propor- 
tion of the travellers are English, and we are greeted 
with the familiar language at every turn. Amer- 
icans are of course abundant everywhere : it would 
seem that they deserve the name they have of being 
the greatest nation of travellers in the world. 

At an early hour we are ready to undertake the 
city, festival and all. A remarkably handsome 
carriage with two sleek and well fed-horses, a pat- 
tern coachman, and the inimitable valet-de place, 
" George," are at our service ; and certainly noth- 
ing could be more comfortable than the whole ar- 
rangement. We take a long drive through the 
principal streets, to see the decorations prepared for 
the procession, and find the houses adorned with 
flags and flowers, and the windows full of expectant 



128 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

faces. Thousands are abroad in the streets also, 
and the whole city is alive with excitement. After 
a while we take a position which commands a com- 
plete view of the procession as it passes, and in a 
moment the music is heard and the head of the long 
column appears in sight. First comes an escort 
of superb cavalry, whose rich equipments gleam 
and flash in the sunlight till the eyes are dazzled. 
Bands of military music follow at intervals, and 
the body of the procession is formed of groups of 
young men marching slowly along with banners in 
their hands, of children of both sexes from the dif- 
ferent schools, carrying flowers, nuns from the con- 
vents, jDriests from the churches, and among them 
images of saints, and lighted tapers, and perfumes 
from the incense, and the grand image of Our 
Lady borne aloft and sparkling with gold and jewels, 
and the Cardinal in his scarlet hat beneath the 
rich canopy supported by reverent hands over his 
sacred head. The wind instruments swell through 
the summer air ; the priests chant ; and sweet young 
voices mingle with the steady tramping of the mul- 
titude ; the horses prance ; the spectators stare ; 
and the whole thing is a very grand affair, — not, 
however, particularly religious in its effect on our 
minds, though it is the Sabbath and a church fete. 

The church bells pealed forth their solemn tones, 
and the crowd followed the procession to the ancient 






CATHEDRAL OF ST. GUDULE. 129 

Cathedral of St. Gudule, where the consecration 
was to take place. We drove to the church door, 
and, at the risk of being crushed in the crowd, 
entered the beautiful church. The music swelled 
through the lofty arches, and the sunshine came 
pouring through the gorgeously stained windows, 
while the quaint aspect of the crowd, and the 
dresses of the priests and soldiers, made the whole 
scene like a picture of the Middle Ages. This old 
church is a wise old edifice, and has looked down 
on a great many very various performances in its 
day. It is very impressive in its interior, and the 
window in the Chapel of St. Sacrament is called 
the most exquisitely painted window in Europe. 

In driving about the streets, we are surprised to 
see how very numerous are the associations sug- 
gested to our minds, and how familiar history has 
made us with the localities about us. The whole 
history of the Netherlands has been so dramatic, 
and individuals in it have come out in such ro- 
mantic prominence, that every detail possesses in- 
terest, and a thousand names and incidents remain 
in the memory. William of Orange, Count Egmont, 
and Count Horn, — are there any heroes of romance 
whose names suggest more picturesque scenes, more 
thrilling memories ? Is not the Duke of Alva — 
" the Bloody Duke " — a fiend second only to Satan 
himself in the recollection of the suffering people 



130 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

whose annals are stained with the records of his 
fearful tyranny ? We are in a land of romance 
now, and as we stand on the balcony of the Hotel de 
Ville, and look out on the Grande Place, with its 
magnificent framework of noble old mansions, or 
enter the hall made famous by the abdication of 
Charles Y., or hear the names of many a street or 
building whose title is written in blood, we look 
back upon the distant past, and its usual dreamy 
aspect changes in a moment to sharp and present 
actuality. Other and later pictures too rise up be- 
fore us, and memories of Waterloo flock thick and 
fast. Strange that there need be so much blood on 
all these pictures ! Red seems the only color 
history has loved to paint in: will it never learn 
to use the blue of heaven, or the green of earth ? 

Not far from our hotel is the mansion of Count 
Cornelissen, where — its lord being absent — we 
were allowed to enter. It contains a valuable and 
finely arranged picture-gallery, and the house is it- 
self worthy of a long visit. 

The broad and massive staircases, the carved 
mirror-frames of wondrous delicacy, the antique 
chimney-pieces reaching to and mingling with the 
ceilings, the curious old furniture, the luxurious 
boudoir of the Countess, all claim attention. Many 
of the paintings in the gallery are of rare merit and 
beauty. The freedom with which the private col- 



LACE MANUFACTORY. 131 

lections of paintings are thrown open to the travel- 
ling public, enables strangers to enjoy the sight of 
many pictures which otherwise would remain un- 
attainable to any but a comparatively small circle. 
There is no difficulty in obtaining entrance by means 
of a good valet-de-place, and the number seen, and 
the time spent among them, need be limited only 
by the taste of the visitor, or the length of his stay 
in the city. The Museum, also, contains paintings 
enough to bewilder any ordinary mind ; among them 
many of Rubens' s largest, if not his finest, pictures. 
The Museum, as a whole, is too much like other 
collections of the same sort to need a special de- 
scription ; — it is very large, very admirable, and 
very tiresome. 

We spent a long time at one of the lace manu- 
factories, and were initiated into many of the mys- 
teries of the craft, through the kindness of a young 
Frenchman attached to the establishment, who " did 
the honors" with great alacrity and unwearied 
patience. The exquisite beauty and variety of the 
laces can only be appreciated by thorough examina- 
tion, and by the comparison of one degree of fine- 
ness of texture with another ; for the gradation is 
so delicate, and the final extenuation so gossamer, 
that it needs a microscope to certify to the separate 
threads. Cruel work it is for the eyes of those who 
labor on it, — but who thinks of that ? 



132 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

The Zoological Gardens of Brussels arc really 
admirable. The inequality of the ground allows 
great picturesque effect, and some of the animals 
are noble fellows, especially the bears. At sunset 
on Sunday a fine band gives open-air concerts there, 
and the gardens are crowded. 

The Boulevards afford fine drives and walks, the 
streets of the city are neat and well paved, and the 
market is extremely well worth a visit in the morn- 
ing. The profusion of blossoming plants and bou- 
quets which adorn the galleries of the building, say 
much for the love of beauty among the people. 
The book-stalls near the market, and which occupy 
a long passage, are worth examination for their 
antiquity and the odd juxtaposition in which some 
of the authors may be found. There are many fine 
shops also, which do their part towards retaining for 
Brussels the appellation of "Little Paris," which it 
won long ago, and of which it seems to be not a 
little proud. It must be on many accounts a charm- 
ing residence, and it takes but a short time to ac- 
quire a home feeling. The walks in the immediate 
vicinity of the hotel are pleasant, and the king's 
palace, with its pretty park, is in near proximity to 
us. One can but touch lightly upon all the things 
seen and done on such a busy journey, else chapters 
would grow into volumes, and repetition become ex- 
hausting to reader and to writer alike. 



FIELD OF WATERLOO. 133 

To visit the field of Waterloo requires the whole 
of a long summer's day, and we were fortunate in 
having one in which the air was fresh and invigor- 
ating. The drive is pleasant, the distance twelve 
miles. By taking breakfast tolerably early, and 
starting directly after, ample time is obtained, for the 
road is good, and the horses rattle along at a merry 
pace. The wheels fly over the paved military road 
and through the forest of Soignies, and the aspect of 
the pretty country is so quiet and peaceful that it 
is difficult to believe that the din of battle has ever 
disturbed it, or the trampling of armed men re- 
echoed through these silent solitudes. We took up 
on the way, the famous Sergeant Munday, the guide 
par excellence , who, in consideration of certain pe- 
cuniary compliments, condescends to explain the 
battle of Waterloo to all who put themselves under 
his charge. Wo left the carriages at the entrance 
to the famous precincts, and walked from one to 
another of the " positions." The Sergeant, now a 
white-haired man, is hale and hearty, and twirls his 
snowy moustaches with a highly military air as he 
fights the battle over again with many gestures and a 
most sonorous voice. I am grieved to confess, that, 
spite of his lucid explanations and his speaking ges- 
tures, I found it impossible to see the bloody battle, 

or to perceive " the regiment kneeling down 

behind the corn there, and the troop of horse 

12 



134 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

concealed behind that clump of trees.'' However, 
the field itself is amply sufficient, without the aid of 
detailed accounts, to suggest many memories of the 
great day, and Childe Harold is a better guide than 
even Sergeant Munday. The effect of a half-hour's 
solitude upon this almost boundless field would do 
more to bring back the sounds of battle and the 
scenes of carnage, than any other preparation. The 
view from the top of the mound erected over the 
slain does something to mollify your resentment at 
the mound itself, than which surely nothing more 
ridiculous could possibly have been conceived. The 
Belgian Lion, glaring at France, is positively com- 
ical, with his outstretched tail, and the whole effect 
of the pyramid is no more dignified than a colossal 
plum-cake would be in the same place. But hav- 
ing mounted the rough stone steps and gained the 
summit, you stand just beneath the big lion, so as 
to ignore his obtrusive existence, and, forgetting as 
quickly as possible all about your means of elevat- 
ing yourself this two hundred feet in air, you make 
use of it to gaze over the fair and fertile fields, now 
rich with approaching harvests and waving in the 
sunshine as the summer breeze sweeps through the 
nodding grain. Now and then a little farm-house 
stands as in the battle, but has gone to sleep, as it 
were, now that the fight is over and quiet restored. 
The excessive stillness of everything around seems 



FIELD OF WATERLOO. 135 

as if it were the result of exhaustion ; and one must 
confess that it was a noble field on which to decide 
the fate of Europe. To-day the waving grain re- 
places the armed men, and blades of grass are the 
only weapons on which the sunshine glistens. The 
chateau and orchard of Hougoumont are perhaps 
the most interesting portion of the day's explora- 
tion ; — they seem to retain more of the story, as they 
bore more of the brunt of the battle. The ruined 
walls and gnarled trees look as if they never could 
recover from the dread and horror of the scenes in 
which they bore their part. Here, indeed, illusion 
might be possible, and a midnight among these bat- 
tered stones might favor one with a phantom battle. 
Of course travellers are tormented at every step 
by relic-sellers, who stick canes in your face and bul- 
lets under your nose, and old iron of all sorts into 
your hands, vociferating in your ears all the while 
as if you were stone deaf. Plans of the battle, 
pictures of Hougoumont and the beautiful big cake 
you have climbed upon, and descriptions in all lan- 
guages, seem to grow up out of the very ground as 
you walk along. The pertinacity of these merchants 
in Waterlooisms is marvellous, — their fluency is 
torrent-like, — their imperturbable serenity, under 
all the indignant efforts of a traveller to get rid 
of them, is a moral phenomenon. Requests and 
threats are alike impotent against them, inattention 



136 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

to their chatter only redoubles their devotion, re- 
fusal to purchase does not discourage them, and the 
fact of your hands being already filled with similar 
articles is no indication to them that you will buy 
no more. 

The return to the city, late in the summer day, 
was delightful. Sunset hues gilded and glorified 
all the landscape ; and whether the impressions re- 
ceived during the day had rendered us more sus- 
ceptible to quiet beauty, or our eyes had not opened 
wide enough to see it in the morning, the country 
about us seemed much fairer and more interesting. 
The jubilant notes of the guard's bugle rang out 
clear and sweet as we dashed rapidly into the city 
and drew up before our hotel. The coach was a 
very comfortable one, neat, well-appointed, and not 
crowded. The present arrangement of regular 
stages to the field is comparatively new, and re- 
lieves the traveller from the extortionate demands 
of drivers under the old regime. 

As the time from Brussels to Antwerp is but an 
hour and a half, we decided to take it at night, and 
so lose no time on the way. Time is very precious to 
us this month, and we must lose none on unimpor- 
tant matters. At eight in the evening, therefore, we 
left Brussels, and at ten were established in delight- 
ful rooms in the Hotel de St. Antoine. This house 
had like to have proved a temporary Capua for us, 



CATHEDRAL AT ANTWERP. 137 

so much were we pleased with everything about it. 
The house itself is spacious, after the manner of 
a palace rather than a hotel ; our rooms are airy 
and handsomely furnished, and the table d'hote is 
sumptuous. I think our dinner the first day must 
have numbered some twenty courses, and the ser- 
vants were drilled to the utmost pitch of noiseless 
excellence. 

Antwerp is famous for so many things, and in so 
many different ways, that it takes a little time to 
arrange our impressions and decide what to look at 
first. There is the fine old cathedral, covering an 
immense extent of ground, and surmounted with 
the renowned spire of delicate stone-work, which 
Napoleon compared to Mechlin lace, and within 
whose walls dwells that glory of art, " The Descent 
from the Cross," by Rubens. We stand long before 
the wonderful picture, finding every moment some 
new power in it, and learning at every glance to 
wonder less and less at the reputation it has won. 
" The Elevation of the Cross," by the same artist, 
is a companion-piece to the " Descent," but does 
not compare with it in excellence. The proportions 
of the cathedral are very large, — two hundred and 
fifty feet wide by five hundred long. As we stand 
in front of the church, and look up at the graceful 
spire, we are glad to know that the reason why our 
necks ache so in gazing at it is, that it rises to the 

12* 



138 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

height of four hundred and sixty-six feet above us. 
The church seems somewhat dark and gloomy, but 
has, after all, a quiet and solemn charm of its own. 

Rubens, Yan I)yck, and Sneider were all born at 
Antwerp, and their paintings embellish their native 
city. In the noble old Church of St. Jacques is 
a chapel containing the tombs of Rubens and his 
family, and also a painting in which he has intro- 
duced his own portrait as St. George, his two wives 
as Martha and Mary Magdalene, his father as St. 
Jerome, his grandfather as Time, and his son as an 
angel. This picture is covered with a curtain, and 
the iron gate of the chapel kept locked ; but a fee 
in the proper direction unlocks the one and un- 
covers the other immediately. " The Crucifixion," 
which is a fine picture, is by Yan Dyck, and the 
marble statue of the Yirgin by Duquesnoy. In 
the Church of St. Paul there are a great many fine 
pictures ; and a few may be found in the Church of 
St. Augustine. The museum has many worth ex- 
amination, especially one or two by Quentin Matsys. 

But some of the most interesting features of this 
good old city are to be seen in driving and walk- 
ing through its crooked streets, which are rich in 
ancient buildings and curious architectural effects. 
The bygone splendors of the once renowned and 
prosperous capital may be guessed at without diffi- 
culty ; — it must have been a fine place in the 



ANTWERP. 139 

days of its wealthy old burghers. It is still a 
busy place, but the eighty thousand people who 
dwell here now are as nothing to the two hundred 
thousand that filled its streets in its halcyon days. 
The famous docks of Antwerp, constructed by Na- 
poleon, would contain two thousand ships, if there 
were two thousand to put in them. The Bourse is 
also a most peculiar and interesting place ; the 
architecture is of the Moorish style, and immense 
amounts of iron and glass enter into the vast 
roof, which covers the large area so perfectly that 
even the velvet-clad burghers of the olden days 
need not have feared the gray sky which some- 
times hangs over Antwerp, while housed in this 
most hospitable of Exchanges. 

The sunshine still befriended us, and we took a 
charming drive of several hours on the morning 
after our arrival, thus obtaining a very tolerable 
general idea of the city, afterwards deepened into 
detail by walks and more careful examination. 
The impression on our memory of Antwerp is singu- 
larly picturesque and distinct ; and we should have 
been glad of more time there than we dared bestow 
while there was so much in the future to claim our 
attention. 

The train leaves for Rotterdam in the middle of 
the afternoon, and as the dinner-hour of the Hotel 
St. Antoine was half past two, and our expeditions 



140 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

during the morning made us sufficiently ravenous, 
we were able to do ample justice to the many deli- 
ciously prepared viands. When we arrived at the 
station, the fair weather deserted its, and a low 
drizzle set in, which, by the time we reached the 
steamboat, had changed to a pouring rain. In view 
of such occurrences, it would be well if some ar- 
rangement were made by which the passengers were 
not obliged to traverse so much mud and water 
between the two methods of conveyance, — unless, 
indeed, it is intended as preparation for entering the 
amphibious country of Holland. Be that as it may, 
the mud did form to a depth quite incredible, con- 
sidering the short time the rain had been falling. 
It poured in such torrents that it was impossible 
to remain on deck ; so we contented ourselves with 
a view of the Scheldt through the cabin windows. 
This view was not especially extensive, consisting as 
it did of a strip of very muddy and tumultuously 
disposed water, bounded by a bank of turf which 
effectually concealed the low country beyond, but 
affording occasionally a sight of a tree or part of a 
house-top. We were obliged to take the account 
of the actual country behind the dike on faith, as 
it is somewhat lower than the level of the water on 
which we were steaming it in such melancholy style. 
The greenness of what we did see, however, was 
brilliant, in spite of the darkness of the cloudy and 



ARRIVAL AT ROTTERDAM. 141 

lowering sky. Arrived at the quaint old city of 
Rotterdam, and housed in the comfortable Hotel 
des Pays Bas, we forgot the dismal journey of the 
last few hours, and heeded not the heavy pouring of 
the rain nor the howling of the wind, which did not 
seem to be over well pleased that we were at last 
out of its reach. It is almost worth while to get 
caught in a storm occasionally, in order to ex- 
perience that delightful satisfaction at the change 
to comfort and warmth within, from the chill and 
exposure without. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Eainy Morning in Eotterdam. — Museum. — Church of St. Lawrence, 
and Grand Organ. — The Hague. — General Quietude of the Place. — 
Eoyal Museum. — Palace of Prince Frederick. — Palace in the Wood. 

— Bazaar Eoyal of M. Boer. — Amsterdam. — Stadt-House. — Museum. 

— Curacoa. — Amsterdam to Arnheim. — To Dusseldorf. — Hofgar- 
ten. — Gallery and Artists. 

The morning broke in upon our slumbers, which 
were sound and sweet, but it brought no fresh sun- 
shine, as we had hoped. However, water must be 
expected in Holland in all its forms, and certainly 
is quite in harmony with the generally submerged 
condition of things. As it did not rain in the morn- 
ing hours, but only looked sulky and threatening, 
we managed to take a long walk upon the Boompjes 
on which our hotel stands, to cross some of the nu- 
merous bridges and overlook some of the canals ; 
and, in short, we made the most of our time until 
the returning rain drove us to take shelter in a car- 
riage, but by no means to a discontinuance of sight- 
seeing, for we have got up a steam in this direction 
of late, which not even the floods of Holland can 
put down, nor any elemental combination defeat of 
its purpose. So we drove hither and thither, mak- 



ROTTERDAM. 143 

ing up for the want of cheerfulness outside hy 
merriment within. We spent a long time at the 
Museum, among Jan Steen's interiors, Ruysdael's 
landscapes, and the game-pieces of Weenix. It 
possesses also a small picture hy Paul Potter, and 
a head hy Albert Durer. This cheerful picture- 
gallery of- jolly Flemish scenes, and barn-yard com- 
fort, and simple daily life, was quite refreshing after 
such a surfeit of martyrdoms and crucifixions as we 
have had of late, and in the contemplation of which 
the heart is pained, even while the eye confesses the 
merit. 

At twelve we drove to the Church of St. Law- 
rence, to hear a concert on the grand organ. This 
organ has been recently enlarged and improved, 
numbers now some six thousand stops, and claims 
to be equal, if not superior, to the one at Haarlem. 
It is certainly a very magnificent affair, and we 
considered ourselves fortunate in chancing on a day 
on which it could be heard to advantage. A gra- 
tuitous concert is given on Tuesdays and Thurs- 
days, for the express purpose of showing off the 
instrument. The audience was not large, but at- 
tentive, and evidently appreciative. We sat in the 
dim old church in a trance of delight, while the 
tones of the majestic organ swept through the air, 
and rolled and reverberated above our heads. Yet, 
in spite of the enormous volume of sound of which 



144 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

it is capable, there is nothing harsh or overpowering 
in its heaviest tones. Instead of the noisy confusion 
which might at times be expected from this levia- 
than at play, the loudest notes were full of rich 
harmony, and retained all their sweetness. Some- 
times they swept by us " like the rushing of many 
waters," sometimes resounded like thunder among 
the hills, or like the ocean hoarse with storms ; 
sometimes it was as harp-strings touched by angel 
fingers, or flutes breathing tenderest sweetness on 
the hushed air. The variety was almost endless, 
and nothing but ascertained knowledge of the fact 
would have been sufficient to prove to us that all 
those sounds of power and of sweetness really issued 
from the superb mass of carving which rose before 
us, and lost itself in the darkness of the high church- 
tower. The programme included a fugue, a cho- 
rus, a sonata of intense and mournful sweetness by 
Mendelssohn, a flute-piece, and a fantasia which 
allowed the organist to bring out all the wonderful 
versatility and graceful power of his instrument. 

We have a room at our hotel vast in its dimen- 
sions and stately in its general effect. This apart- 
ment is some sixteen feet in height, is covered with 
rich old hangings and adorned with elaborate stucco- 
work, all mellowed and deepened by the touch of 
time. In a panel above the high mantel is a paint- 
ing of a fair girl holding a profusion of gay flowers 



THE HAGUE. 145 

in her lap. This picture is so full of freshness and 
beauty that I long to cut it from the wall and carry 
it away to a more cheerful place ; but the huge 
room would be sad without it, and perhaps it might 
itself lose somewhat of its charm if removed from 
the contrast which now sets it off so well. The 
whole house belongs to the past, and is doubtless 
much changed from its original purpose, as is the 
case with most of the Continental hotels. This one 
is admirable in every respect. 

From Rotterdam to the Hague by railway, is 
only about fourteen miles, — a trip accomplished 
in less than an hour. After an apparently in- 
terminable drive, — the station being at a most re- 
spectful distance from the city, — we arrived at the 
Hotel Belle Vue, of which Bradshaw remarks that 
it " is not only one of the best in Holland, but in 
Europe." It is, indeed, a very comfortable rest- 
ing-place for a traveller, and, standing, as it does, 
opposite the Royal Park, and removed from all the 
bustle of business into a sort of rural retirement, it 
appears to entertain strangers simply from an in- 
stinct of elegant hospitality, and with no possible 
suggestion of ultimate profit. Indeed, the general 
stillness and serenity of the city are most remark- 
able, and those of the streets through which, as in- 
quisitive visitors, we were driven by our courier, 
were characterized by a degree of quiet more suit- 

13 K 



14(3 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

able to a country village than to a European city of 
sixty thousand inhabitants. As we rattled over the 
ancient pavements, — often the only noisy thing there 
was stirring in the neighborhood, — the very sunshine 
seemed astonished at our daring to cast a moving 
shadow. It was as if the mighty remembrances of 
a sad and busy past weighed down the eyelids of the 
strong man, and, after battle, he must slumber away 
his fatigue. 

But the past supplies enough of interest, and in- 
vests the quaint old place with an atmosphere of its 
own ; this past has enough to say, even though the 
present keeps silence. There are palaces, and parks, 
and paintings, and hallowed spots, which call out for 
attention. The palace of William II. contains a 
small, but very fine, collection of paintings, and the 
room in which they are hung for the present is 
architecturally interesting. It was formerly used as 
a chapel. The grounds about the palace are pretty 
and well kept, and the two towers which guard the 
entrance quite well worth notice. There is an 
equestrian statue of William I. before the entrance, 
and directly opposite this, the so-called old palace, 
stands the residence of the present king. 

The Royal Museum, kept at the Maurits Huis, is 
rich in objects of interest, and demands a very long 
visit. There is a large collection of Japanese oddi- 
ties, which in their freshness, and while the regions 



ROYAL MUSEUM. 147 

from which they came remained such a terra in- 
cogmta to the rest of the world, must have pro- 
duced a great sensation upon Dutch eyes. The 
Dutch have reason to exhibit the proofs of that 
commercial energy which opened up an inter- 
course with such a conservative people as the 
Japanese, and to preserve the data which prove 
their precedence of all other nations in this com- 
merce. In addition to these foreign curiosities, 
there are in the collection many domestic antiqui- 
ties, made interesting and valuable by the histo- 
ries pertaining to them. The cuirass of Admiral 
Van Tromp retains the dint of the bullets which 
showered on that hero in the thickest of the battle ; 
the sword of De Ruyter is rusty with the blood 
it shed ; and the habillement comjilet which Wil- 
liam I. wore when assassinated by Balthazar Ge- 
rards is kept in a case, to recall the sad story of a 
noble man's death. Then there is a model of the 
infernal machine of Fieschi, now thrown in the 
shade somewhat by other inventions, to be sure, but 
once a wonder and a horror. 

We do not linger over-long among the dusty and 
faded relics, however, but hurry up stairs to the 
collection of paintings, rich in specimens of Dutch 
and Flemish art, and brought together with a 
royal munificence of outlay. The first claimant on 
our attention is the famous Paul Potter's Bull, 



148 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

a painting so full of power and charm and life, 
that its subject seems elevated into the highest 
range of art, and an ideal halo to encircle it, as if 
to prove that Nature can speak to us with resistless 
force in whatever form her true artists choose to ex- 
press her. In the picture it is nature rather than 
Paul Potter's work that is before us, and the young 
bull, standing there in the open air, becomes the 
symbol of all youthful strength and fresh vitality. 
There are two or three small pictures by the same 
artist, all full of earnestness and power. The val- 
ue of this collection may be best guessed at by an 
enumeration of some of the more prominent pic- 
tures. An enormous canvas hangs in the centre 
of one room, which fascinates us with its ghastly 
interest. It is Rembrandt's " Surgeon dissecting a 
Dead Body ; " and the admirably managed group 
which stands about the principal figure, as he 
points out the exemplification of his scientific the- 
ory, is replete with interest. Then we have a 
small picture by Gerard Douw, for which five thou- 
sand pounds were paid; and afterwards follows a 
long procession of chefs-d'oeuvre , by artists whose 
names are a sufficient guaranty of their merit. 
Euysdael's landscapes and Terriers' s alehouse fes- 
tivities, Mieris's highly-finished scenes, delicate in 
execution as the tinting of enamel, Albert Durer's 
life-like portraits, and Murillo's golden-green color- 



PALACE OF PRINCE FREDERICK. 149 

ing, and Correggio's groupings, and Guido's lovely 
tints, and Salvator Rosa's tragic lights and shades, 
and Titian's gorgeous colors, and Tintoretto's por- 
traiture, — these give but a hint of the value and 
variety of the whole. The portraits of Rubens' s 
two wives, painted by himself, are also in this gal- 
lery, which comprises, in the whole, something like 
three hundred pictures. 

The palace of Prince Frederick was open to 
strangers, in the absence of its owner, and our 
visit to it interested us much. It is a pleasant 
relief to turn from rooms and scenes which in 
their associations belong entirely to the past to 
those which are filled with the fresh, warm glow of 
immediate life and interest. The home-like aspect 
of the palace was absolutely delicious, after such 
long intercourse with dead heroes and defunct actu- 
alities. The palace is spacious and convenient in 
arrangement, not splendid in finish, but fitted with 
everything which may be made available in daily 
life, or minister to the love of beauty. Some of the 
saloons were very handsomely furnished, and the 
whole effect was that of a luxurious and tasteful 
home. There was a profusion of books and pic- 
tures, and vases of Sevres and malachite nick-nacks, 
of rich carpetings and inlaid floors, of heavy curtains 
and gilded chandeliers ; but all looked as if they 
served some familiar daily purpose. The toilet ar- 

13* 



150 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

tides of the Princess, the hats and guns and news- 
papers of the Prince, lay about in pleasant confu- 
sion. The ball-room was a charming place, and 
the polished floor seemed waiting impatiently for 
" many twinkling feet." A conservatory, with its 
atmosphere laden with the perfume of exotics, 
opened out of the ball-room, also expectant of ro- 
mantic couples, who should, at the crisis of their 
fate, emerge from the gay crowd of dancers to tell 
and listen to some tale of love. Many an ardent 
lover has doubtless lost his senses amid these bewil- 
dering perfumes, and many a lovely maiden smiled 
or sighed beneath these hanging vines. The selec- 
tion of paintings was in exquisite taste, and, though 
not very numerous, they were all of great beauty 
and value. 

We drove to the private picture-gallery of Mon- 
sieur Steengracht. The rooms in which the pic- 
tures hang are of such magnificent dimensions and 
splendor of decoration, that the eye wanders from 
the paintings to the apartment, and back again, 
almost uncertain on which to rest. In looking at so 
many fine pictures as we have seen lately, we find 
that it requires something of an effort to individual- 
ize them in passing before them, and are often dis- 
tracted in our attention to them by objects in them- 
selves inferior. It is only by sitting down for a 
little while, and closing the eyes to external sights, 



PALACE IN THE WOOD. 151 

that we are able to restore the true proportions of 
art, and arrange our impressions into harmony. 

The drive to the Palace in the Wood is a pleasant 
and quiet experience, which seems to allow a short 
but complete respite from the toilsome pleasures 
of sight-seeing. We drove slowly along over the 
smooth road and beneath the silent trees, and 
drank in at every breath the soothing and refresh- 
ing influences of nature. The sun shone brightly 
overhead, and flecked the ground with shadows of 
the quivering leaves above us ; the air was soft and 
warm, and the stillness almost unbroken. The 
palace is a curious affair, — a relic of the clays 
when everything was d la Chinoise, and Indian 
monstrosities were favorite house ornaments. The 
hangings on the walls, and most of the furniture, 
were brought from China and Japan, and the effect 
of such a profusion of these peculiar birds and 
beasts, and narrow-eyed humanities, which greet 
you at every turn, is quite amusing. Excessive 
neatness also characterizes every part of the estab- 
lishment, and is only equalled by the formality 
with which each article is arranged in its own 
especial place. 

There is one establishment in the city which no 
visitor should fail to see, — the Bazaar Eoyal of M. 
Boer, a most unique and comprehensive affair. A 
description is out of the question, for the collection 



152 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

is quite universal, and in wandering through the 
rooms you are met by about as absurd an arrange- 
ment of incongruities as you would suffer from in a 
prolonged nightmare. There is something from 
every clime and every age ; things of every qual- 
ity and every style, historical and romantic, novel 
and ancient, beautiful and hideous. French vani- 
ties and English solidities, Japanese horrors and 
Dutch abominations, Sevres porcelains and Ger- 
man meerschaums, paintings and pianos, buhl-work 
and embroideries, Indian idols and children's toys, 
jewelry and armor, — all are found here in one 
grand conglomerate. If you weary of these, you 
can step through an open window into the gardens 
connected with the concern, where the same hodge- 
podge style prevails, and where, in order to get a 
nearer view of a New Holland cactus, you stumble 
over a Chinese garden-seat. The Bazaar and its con- 
tents are to be seen ostensibly for nothing ; but an 
indefinable something in the air makes it palpable 
unto the perceptions of the most obtuse visitor that 
a portion of his surplus revenue must be employed 
in " patronizing the establishment." And this is 
easily done, where there are so many really tempt- 
ing articles, and the prices are not marked so low 
as to embarrass the purchaser with any sense of ob- 
ligation from the owner, when the possession is 
transferred to himself. 



THE HAGUE. 153 

The drives about the city are pleasant, the 
streets are often spacious and shaded, and the 
canals refresh the eye with their unpretending 
little strips of water. As we look from our win- 
dow into the Royal Park opposite, we see many 
deer feeding within its green precincts, and watch 
their graceful movements beneath the trees. The 
grounds are separated from the broad and quiet 
street by a canal, which serves as mirror to the 
shore. The effect of the Hague upon my mind is 
that of a place where every one is living on his in- 
come, and no one driven to " work for his living." 
As a residence it must be dull, but it would be in- 
valuable to a weary traveller who wished to have a 
nap of a few weeks' length, or to a student in need 
of seclusion to work out an intricate problem. 

The ride in the cars from the Hague to Amster- 
dam, thirty-six miles, taken in the evening and in a 
very sleepy condition, is vague and unreal in the 
memory ; but the jolting over some two miles of 
rough pavement, in a carriage which might have 
served as family-coach to Noah and his sons when 
they drove to the ark, and which was necessary to 
bring us from the station to the " Grand Hotel 
van Doelen," will not soon be forgotten. The hotel 
was full, it being the height of the travelling season ; 
but it was midnight, and raining also, so we obsti- 
nately refused to be refused, and were finally ac- 



154 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

commoclated with quarters which the exigency of 
the case made us consider quite comfortable. 

Now, Amsterdam is a place which is, from begin- 
ning to end, and from external to internal, quite 
unlike most other places, and every step taken 
within its limits by any one but a Dutchman is 
a provocation to curiosity. The quaint old man- 
sions ; the numerous canals covered with a most 
unpleasant-looking green slime, as if to conceal the 
particulars of their dirty depths beneath a miserable 
attempt at cheerful growth ; the ancient pavements 
and the narrow streets ; the dampness and the mould 
everywhere visible ; the boats on the quays, in which 
housekeeping prevails generally, and the queer 
drays sliding over the stones, and drawn by horses 
in high-heeled shoes, — all these things make a walk 
through the city a very entertaining affair. The 
inhabitants in some of the out-of-the-way streets 
into which we penetrated stared at us as if we were 
wild beasts, (and if they were domestic animals, I 
think we should prefer to hail from the forest and 
the jungle,) and the children sometimes became 
really intrusive in their curiosity. Driving is not a 
pleasant process over the stones, but must of course 
be resorted to for the accomplishment of distances ; 
but it is in your walks through a strange j)lace that 
you become really familiar with its peculiar details, 
and are brought face to face with its people. 



AMSTERDxVM. 155 

The old Stadt-House is one of the first sights to 
be seen ; it is an immense stone structure, standing 
on more than thirteen thousand piles, and looks as 
solid and immovable as any old Dutch burgomas- 
ter in his palmiest days. The famous gallery in the 
palace, which has walls and ceilings of white marble, 
and was originally one long room, has been divided 
into several smaller ones, by wooden partitions imi- 
tating marble ; — the effect is, of course, injured. 
In its original condition it must have been very 
handsome. It is profusely ornamented in bas-relief. 
The ball-room is also of marble, and is a hundred 
and twenty feet long, sixty wide, and one hundred 
high ; — on state occasions it is lighted by candles, 
in gilt chandeliers of exquisitely delicate branching 
and light tracery. Crimson curtains and cushioned 
seats relieve the otherwise chilly aspect of the room. 
From the roof of the building is obtained a very 
extensive view ; the whole city lies like a map at 
your feet. The twenty-six windmills on the walls 
ply their laborious arms ; the great ship-canal and 
the huge docks lie calm and still ; the Haarlem lake 
spreads out its waters in the sun ; the three hundred 
bridges of the city swarm with life ; and the canal- 
boats move about like snails, or snuggle up to the 
quays like lazy sleepers. The whole country is flat 
and monotonous, but so peculiar to a stranger that 
it awakens a lively curiosity. We spent a long time 



156 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

studying out the features of the landscape, and im- 
pressing the picture on our memory. 

The Museum here is filled with the usual num- 
ber of Gerard Douw's and Yan Dyck's and Miens' s 
paintings. Also one or two Paul Potters, and a large 
painting by Rembrandt, which, though the condem- 
nation of Sir Joshua Reynolds stands recorded 
against it, I ventured to admire exceedingly. On 
our way home we called at Wynand Fockink's 
world-renowned Curacoa manufactory. On intro- 
ducing ourselves as Americans, we were most cor- 
dially received by the gentleman in command of 
the counting-room. The red and white liqueurs — 
made from oranges and lemons — were both sub- 
mitted to our inspection, and served out to us in 
dainty little glasses, accompanied by delicate cakes, 
so that we came away convinced that the sweetness 
of the establishment itself was only equalled by the 
sweetness of the reception accorded to us. 

The draught-horses here are of enormous size, 
and drag weights that seem quite beyond the power 
of any single animal. The high shoes or clogs of 
iron which lift their feet from the ground would 
seem to be a disadvantage, but probably serve 
some purpose unknown to the uninitiated. 

The road between Amsterdam and Arnheim is 
monotonous and tiresome. One soon wearies of 
this endless succession of low fields, and narrow 



ARNHEIM. 157 

canals, and stiff willows, and even the cattle grazing 
in the meadows seem to be of but two patterns, red 
and white and black and white in equal proportions. 
Arnheim has an excellent hotel, where we refreshed 
ourselves with a very nicely prepared supper. We 
started out in the early evening to take a stroll in 
the town, but the streets in the vicinity of our hotel, 
though neat and pretty, were so deserted and for- 
lorn in aspect, that they came near to giving us the 
blues, and we returned to our cosey little room with- 
out getting a very long look at Arnheim. 

An early start in the morning is compensated 
by a nice breakfast on board the steamer, and 
by the conviction that we are now fairly on the 
Rhine. We bid farewell to Holland without reluc- 
tance, though the picture we have of it has, after 
all, its attractions, and we would not willingly omit 
it from our European gallery. The dampness of 
the climate seems to permeate everything and every- 
body ; the houses look as if they had recently 
emerged from the miry depths, the land as if just 
come up to the surface of the water to take 
breath. Vegetation of course nourishes abundantly, 
and Holland may be called the kitchen-garden of 
Eden, the jDaradise of cauliflowers and carrots. The 
number of handbarrows laden with vegetables, and 
dragged by the market-women through the streets 
in the morning, is quite beyond enumeration, and 
u 



158 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

the effect of so much moving greenery only adds to 
the general impression of dampness and mould. It 
can hardly be agreeable to live in such a moist place, 
but, judging from the sturdy limbs of the feminine 
portion of these ambulant gardens, it is not alto- 
gether unhealthy. But I do not think the amphibi- 
ous style of humanity adapted to please one's love 
of beauty, if that love has been born under drier 
influences. 

The Rhine during this day's journey was compar- 
atively tame and uninteresting, the scenery from 
which its reputation is derived commencing at Co- 
logne. We greeted this unexciting portion of our 
journey with great satisfaction, as a season of com- 
plete rest for mind and body. An occasional glance 
at the low, flat shore was all that interfered with the 
most lazy enjoyment of the comfortable couches and 
easy-chairs of the neat and airy cabin, and the of- 
late-forgotten pleasure of reading. This quiet was 
most welcome, for the last few days had been 
crowded with excitement and fatigue, which it was 
quite impossible to avoid. Twelve hours of un- 
interrupted repose for eyes and ears smacked of 
novelty to us in those busy days. 

At sunset we found ourselves at Dusselclorf, and 
in the very short space of time which travellers 
require for such an operation made ourselves com- 
pletely at home. The next day the weather was 



DUSSELDORF. 159 

soft and warm, a gentle haze obscuring the other- 
wise strong rays of the sun, and rendering it quite 
agreeable to wander about the pleasant streets. 
The town is really most attractive, the streets spa- 
cious, and the contrast between the old part of the 
city, where antiquity reigns predominant, and the 
newer portion, which is redolent of railroads and all 
modern progress, is very marked. The residences, 
however, have not lost the usual characteristics of 
European city dwellings. In no one point is there 
a greater difference of opinion between Americans 
and Europeans, than as to what constitutes a " nice 
house ; " and the contrast between the exterior of 
a mansion on Fifth Avenue, with its spacious front 
and iron railing and broad entrance, and the dingy 
houses which rise immediately from the sidewalk, 
and guard the inner splendors with a forbidding 
outside, is to the disadvantage of the European 
fashion in this matter. The fact that these dismal 
walls are but screens between us and elegant apart- 
ments, wherein may be stored gems of art, the 
price of which would purchase half a dozen of 
our pretty houses, does not tend to increase our 
content with them, unless we are at liberty to 
change, at any moment, our position from the out- 
side to the interior. There is, however, a sort of 
aristocratic effect produced by it, as if the owner 
were utterly averse to the admiration of the crowd 



160 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

outside, and preferred that the only marks by which 
the palace should be distinguished from the ware- 
house should be the wider porte cochere, and the 
sentinel marching to and fro before it. 

The Hofgarten of Dusseldorf is a delightful place, 
and in respect of public gardens we wish that Amer- 
ican towns would follow the example of European 
ones. The setting apart a large space for flowers 
and trees, for avenues and shady places, would serve 
as an admirable counterpoise to the over-activity 
of the business element among us, and a sunset 
walk among the sweet influences of the spot would 
go far to soothe the irritated nerves of the wearied 
plodder among day-books and ledgers. We spent 
a long time in this pretty Hofgarten, where crowds 
of people were strolling about or sitting on the 
benches in the pleasant summer air. On our way 
thither we stopped to make some inquiry of a gen- 
tlemanly-looking young man, who instantly turned 
to accompany us, and show us the way we wished 
to go A brisk conversation sprang up between us, 
in which we ascertained that he had travelled much 
in America, and had some thought of returning 
thither to reside The vast resources of our West- 
ern country seemed to fascinate him with their 
possibilities, and he grew quite eloquent when he 
found that we were willing listeners. From him 
we also obtained much pleasant information in 



DUSSELDORF. 161 

regard to Dusseldorf and the many artists who 
reside here. 

The School of Painting for which Dusseldorf is so 
justly famous has an exhibition every summer, and 
we were just in time to see it in full glory. Some 
of the paintings are very admirable, and comprise 
the works of their best artists. There are also draw- 
ings and rough sketches by Leutze, Lessing, &c, 
which may be had by paying what in any other than 
an art light would be considered enormous prices. 
Several of the artists themselves were in the rooms 
at the time of our visit, and interested us quite as 
much as the pictures. 



u* 



CHAPTER X. 

From Dusseldorf to Cologne. — Emerging from the dull, flat Scenery of 
the Netherlands. — Cleanliness of Cologne. — The great Cathedral. — 
Church of the Eleven Thousand Virgins. — " Crucifixion of St. Peter," 
by Eubens. — Shops at Cologne. — By Eail to Bonn. — Minster and 
Statue of Beethoven. — Afternoon Sail up the Bhine. — Coblentz and 
Ehrenbreitstein. — The Bhine by Moonlight. — Palace of Stolzenfels. — 
Fritz the Donkey. — From Coblentz to Bieberich. — Bhine Scenery 
continued. — Wiesbaden. — Staghom Jewelry and the Kur Saal. — 
Wiesbaden to Frankfort. — Attractions of Frankfort on the Maine. 

The train takes you from Dusseldorf to Cologne 
in three quarters of an hour, through a pretty coun- 
try. It is difficult to describe the relief experienced 
in returning to hills and forests and broken ground 
after the long monotony of low, flat scenery and 
swampy dulness. I breathed exhilaration at every 
breath, and felt as if some mighty oppression were 
removed from my breast. While in Holland I was 
stifled by the close air, and subdued in every energy 
by the moisture, which saturated my spirit as it did 
my garments ; and the stagnant green waters were 
as pools of iniquity unto my eyes. 

The railway ends at Deutz, opposite Cologne, and 
you are driven over a bridge of boats to the city 
proper. The Hotel Disch, at which we stopped, is 



COLOGNE. 163 

superb in all its appointments, and in many re- 
spects resembles a first-class American hotel more 
than any one we have seen. So very comfortable 
did we find ourselves here, and so attractive was the 
quaint old city, that when the time came for us to 
leave Cologne we did so with extreme reluctance. 
The old complaint of the filth and stench of the 
city, which travellers and poets have immortalized, 
has ceased to be a verity, and Cologne is now as 
clean as many a city which has heretofore held 
itself aloof, in all the supposed superior sanctity of 
the virtue which ranks next to godliness. The wit 
which has been called forth by the " seventy-two 
distinct smells " enumerated as belonging to the 
city of Cologne, will doubtless rescue its old un- 
savory reputation from oblivion long after all cause 
for its belief shall have passed away. So difficult 
is it to get rid of a bad name ! 

The grand Cathedral has a double fame, from its 
large intention and its half fulfilment. Workmen 
are now busily employed upon it, and there is rea- 
son to hope that the vast building may be completed. 
It is strange to see a floor of stone worn into hol- 
lows and roughnesses by the feet which have trodden 
on it for centuries, and to see the old weather-stains 
upon the walls while the building itself remains un- 
finished, and the scaffoldings and rough stones are 
scattered about for the use of the workmen. From 



164 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

an examination of the choir, which is the only part 
finished, an idea may be obtained of what the whole 
will be, if the artist's plan is ever successfully car- 
ried out. The exterior is even more beautiful than 
the interior, and portions of the stained glass are 
very ancient, and of remarkable beauty. It would 
be a pleasant thing if the citizens of Cologne could 
wake up, some bright summer's morning, and see 
their beloved Cathedral finished from foundation- 
stone to topmost spire. Pity that Aladdin's lamp is 
lost, and such quick workmen as he could summon 
answer to no present call ! As it at present pro- 
gresses, the stones that were placed in the walls in 
1248 may, in the unceasing transmutation of things, 
see the bone and muscle of those who placed them 
reappear in the newer marbles that the present 
workmen chisel into symmetry. 

The Church of the Eleven Thousand Yirgins — so 
long abused by history and tradition — comes next 
in interest, though exciting very different feelings 
in the beholder. The right hand of St. Ursula in 
a glass case, and the legs and arms of her com- 
panion damsels arranged in mosaic around the 
walls, may be edifying to the faithful, but are gro- 
tesque and ridiculous to others. It is said, I know 
not with how much truth, that many of the bones 
never officiated in a human capacity, but belong- 
to no higher race of martyrs than innocent lambs. 



COLOGNE. 165 

Even if this be the case, the legend need not there- 
for lose its force. 

In the Church of St. Peter hangs the altar-piece, 
by Rubens, of St. Peter's Crucifixion with his 
head downwards. It is admired by many, but is 
a painful and distressing object of contemplation. 
During the wars which devastated this portion of 
country, it was feared that the painting would at- 
tract the cupidity of the invaders, and be stolen 
from its owners ; so an inferior artist w T as employed 
to copy it, the original was fastened with its face 
to the wall, and the copy did duty as frontispiece. 
The two are fastened together now, and the coun- 
terfeit still serves the ordinary purposes of the altar. 
A view of the original may, however, be obtained at 
any time by strangers ; for, like most other objects of 
European celebrity, it turns upon a silver hinge. 

The shops at Cologne are very attractive, and we 
spent some time in investigating their contents, and 
adding to our fast-increasing stores of prettinesses 
and curiosities. The waiters in the shops were 
polite and attentive in the highest degree. We 
wandered through many of the streets, attracted by 
the picturesque old edifices, and endeavored en pas- 
sant to count the places where " alone " it is possi- 
ble to obtain the veritable Farina Eau de Cologne. 
We were obliged to give it up in despair, however ; 
but we have grown lenient to these stereotyped trade 



166 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

deceptions, and meet them with a smile, only ex- 
cusing ourselves from trying all the various speci- 
mens, or attempting to decide as to their merits. 

Instead of taking the steamer at Cologne, and 
seeing the less interesting portion of the river, which 
extends some miles beyond the city, we took rail to 
Bonn, thereby gaining three hours upon the river 
route. By dint of industry during these three hours, 
we were able to take a rapid drive about the place, 
to examine the ancient Minster, the far-famed statue 
of Beethoven, and the University. In the Minster is 
a fine bronze statue of the Empress Helena, mother 
of Constantine, by whom the church was founded. 
The University was formerly the Electoral palace, 
and contains a large library. The costume of the 
students is very picturesque. 

In the early summer afternoon we found ourselves 
comfortably seated on the deck of the steamer, pre- 
pared to gaze with open eyes upon the beauties of 
the Rhine. Every mile of the day's sail presents 
new combinations of crags and cliffs, and sheltered 
nooks, and sweet valleys. Now a lordly castle 
looks down from its aerial height, now a precipitous 
cliff is crowned with crumbling ruins, and now a 
little village clusters around its parish church like 
children about their mother's knee. Innumerable 
vineyards cling to the sides of the hills, and crown 
the terraces, which rise like giant staircases to 



THE RHINE. 167 

heaven. The air seems to catch something of the 
odor of the rare wines that draw their flavor from 
the soil, and to whisper of the songs which owe 
their inspiration to the grapes that have ripened in 
the golden sunshine of the Rhine. The summer 
afternoon glided away like a dream of fairy-land ; 
the sunset glories illuminated hill and vale and 
river with a golden sheen ; and image succeeded 
image, and picture followed picture, as the hours 
went by. As we passed the spots made familiar to 
all eyes, and picturesque to all imaginations, by 
painting and by poesy, the very names sufficed to 
recall countless associations, and to fill up the out- 
lines which in our rapid journey we are often 
obliged to content ourselves with at present. But 
the Drachenfels and Rolandseck, and all the ruined 
castles of the Rhine, suggest legends to one who 
sits at home in his easy-chair ; — how much more do 
they possess of meaning and of reality to one who 
sees them just before him in the full glory of their 
wild romance, as the practical certainty of daylight 
assures us that we are seeing and not dreaming of 
them ! 

The moon was rising as we drew near Coblentz, 
and the huge fortress of Ehrenbreitstein flung its 
masses of shadow down upon the bosom of the 
river. Its frowning battlements threaten the in- 
vader, and seem to watch over the opposite city 



168 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

as a lion might guard the slumbers of its cub. 
Woe to the army that shall waken the roar of the 
mighty beast, and rouse the thunder of its great 
voice ! Coblentz is delightfully situated on the 
river's brink. Our hotel was very near the great 
bridge of boats which lies between the city and 
the fortress, and we were fortunate in getting 
front rooms which looked out over the river. The 
balcony upon which our windows opened was 
adorned with a profusion of flowering and sweet- 
scented vines, and one could hardly ask for more 
romantic influences than those which were around 
us on that beautiful night. The brilliant moon- 
light rivalled in clearness, and excelled in softness, 
the .afternoon's hazy glow ; the warm air of July 
swept past us, breathing the odor of vineyards and 
of flower-gardens ; the silver Rhine flowed swiftly 
before us ; the cannon of Ehrenbreitstein watched 
with dull but sleepless eyes the. whole of the vast 
view ; and the bridge, so busy with countless foot- 
steps in the day, was silent beneath the hush of 
midnight. At last, wearied even with pleasure, we 
sought for sleep, and through our slumber still 
heard the lulling ripple of the Rhine, and felt that 
Ehrenbreitstein protected us from danger. 

The brilliant sunshine waked us at an early hour 
by staring in upon us in a very inquisitive and un- 
ceremonious manner, and bore such an imperious 



STOLZENFELS. 169 

aspect, that it became immediately evident to our 
perceptions that this was no time for continued 
slumber. So, without allowing time for a moment's 
relapse into indolence, we accepted meekly the sun's 
rebuke, and rose to obey his call to " be up and 
doing," as he was. He did not, fortunately, object 
to our obtaining a good breakfast preparatory to 
the day's labors ; and, after due appreciation of 
that traveller's blessing, and a long and admiring 
look at the morning view from our balcony, we took 
our seats in a luxurious little carriage, and were 
driven by a neat and uncommonly intelligent young 
driver over the smooth road to Stolzenfels. This 
road is a charming drive. It follows the course 
of the river, allowing beautiful views up and down 
the stream ; it is in admirable order, and is shaded 
by fine old trees. The distance to and from the 
castle is not too great for easy accomplishment 
in a long summer morning. When we reached the 
foot of the crag on which the castle, or rather the 
palace, stands, we found a number of diminutive 
donkeys waiting for the honor of taking us up the 
ascent. The gentlemen declined to avail them- 
selves of such utterly inadequate quadrupedal ma- 
chinery, upon which it would have been quite 
impossible for them to bestow themselves ; but I 
was mounted — or, to speak more strictly, set 
down — upon a funny little brown fellow, who 

15 



170 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

answered, with the whisk of a very scrubby tail, to 
the name of Fritz. His master kept up an ani- 
mated conversation with Fritz, who was evidently a 
pet with him, and who seemed to appreciate all that 
was said. Though so small, these donkeys are 
stout and strong, and save some fatigue in climb- 
ing the precipitous hill-side. The air was pure 
and exhilarating, however, and to those in full 
strength the ascent is pleasant, and not exhausting 
at all. 

The palace is a perfect gem of a place, belonging 
to the king of Prussia. It was fitted up and fur- 
nished in 1845 for the reception of Queen Victoria, 
and remains just as it was during her visit. The 
apartments are politely shown to visitors, the only 
restriction being that gentlemen shall put on the 
felt slippers provided for their promenade over the 
polished floors. When one looks at the exquisite 
mosaic and delicate quality of these same floors, the 
precaution seems not at all out of place, and is 
submitted to with willingness. The interior of the 
edifice is full of interest, not only from its being a 
reproduction or restoration of the original baronial 
castle, but also from the many rare and curious 
articles collected in the rooms, — ancient furni- 
ture, cabinets of relics, windows of stained glass, 
old weapons rusting in inglorious ease, paintings 
curious in history, if not particularly pleasing in 



STOLZENFELS. 171 

execution, and all the innumerable prettinesses ap- 
propriate to a royal show-box. But if the interior is 
attractive, the exterior is much more so, and it is 
difficult to turn away from the windows to look 
within, when such a paradise greets the eye with- 
out. The winding staircases bring you at every 
turn to little windows, mere arrow-slits in the mas- 
sive wall, from each of which a picture may be seen 
such as is rarely met with. Stolzenfels is the most 
beautifully situated of all the Rhine castles, and is 
justly famous for the view which it commands. Up 
the river one can trace the valley as far as the Drink- 
holder Spring ; opposite the front of the palace is 
the lovely valley of the Lahn ; and down the river 
you look upon Coblentz and Ehrenbreitstein, with 
the far-off mountains of Andernach in the blue dis- 
tance. It is difficult to leave so charming a spot, and 
we lingered at every different view, for the prospect 
is divided into separate distinctness by the turret 
windows, which, precluding any attempt to unite the 
points of the compass, allow undisturbed admira- 
tion of each portion of the landscape, while from the 
projecting balconies, and, above all, from the roof, 
these separate pictures are united into one grand 
whole, which owns no limit save the horizon's verge. 
Descending the hill, we were continually turn- 
ing back to admire the castle itself, and to catch 
glimpses of the little flower-gardens which glow 



172 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

under the walls, and the huge vines which cling 
lovingly to the stones, and drape the turrets with 
graceful garments of foliage. 

The drive to Ehrenbreitstein, and the ascent up 
the long zigzag path by which the brow of the hill 
is gained and the citadel entered, take some hours. 
We examined as much of the fortress as strangers 
are allowed to see ; but the most attractive features 
of the place to unwarlike individuals, after the first 
curiosity at such stupendous preparation for defence 
is satisfied, are the views from the ramparts, and 
the ever-charming pictures of the Rhine. The city 
of Coblentz spreads out beneath our feet, separated 
from us only by the shining river ; the " Blue Mo- 
selle " winds its way out into the open country, 
and the old stone bridge which spans its waters 
spreads its length of arches before us. The farthest 
limits of the scene were made distinct by the un- 
clouded splendor of the sun, and the river shone 
like molten silver among the vivid green of the val- 
ley and the shadow of the craggy rocks. 

Coblentz itself is rather an attractive place, and 
the number of excursions which may conveniently 
be made from it renders it a favorite stopping-place 
for travellers ; but we are not to be tempted into so 
many by-paths as to be obliged, at the last, to leave 
the highway unseen. We are glad that we laid 
down in the beginning such stringent rules for our- 



METHOD OF TRAVELLING. 173 

selves, and find that by obeying them we do, after 
all, get as large an amount of satisfaction as the 
time allowed could possibly bring to us. Not that 
a more lingering and lazy method of travelling 
would not possess some advantages, and allow of 
thorough examination where we must content our- 
selves with a brief look ; but when the limitation of 
time is a fixed fact, a gradation of attractions follows 
in the train of that limitation ; the great and salient 
points are the only ones which we dream of seeing, 
and we grow expert in concentration and in exam- 
ination. We waste no time in wishing for more 
time ; we lose no great thing in grasping after a 
dozen little things ; and the result is, that every day's 
experience adds a clear and powerfully-sketched 
picture to our gallery, though we cannot pause to 
fill in all the delicate tints, and soften and elaborate 
the details. This we may do, to some degree, by 
memory and study, or at some future season by 
a more leisurely survey of the same ground ; but 
now we ride upon the top of the wave, and enjoy 
the rapid movement as part of the performance. 
"We find it exhilarating and exciting to look at the 
moments as of such golden worth that the wrong- 
expenditure of a single hour is to be carefully avoid- 
ed. It is suggestive of the plaintive remark of Mary 
Lamb, that, by attaining unto easy circumstances, 
she and the " gentle Elia " lost the delightful occu- 

15* 



174 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

pation of discussing the final destination of any sum 
of money they had in hand ; there was no excite- 
ment in spending when spending involved no un- 
certainty as to which object was to be purchased 
and which to be left alone. So we travellers, hav- 
ing but so many days to spend, enjoy the choosing of 
what we shall do with them previous to the perform- 
ance, and find new zest in the fact, that what we do 
is in consequence of a carefully made selection from 
among many attractions. And as we go on our 
way, and one bright image succeeds another, and 
one story obliterates in some measure the one which 
preceded it, we are really not so much disappointed 
at not seeing, as overwhelmed with what we do see, 
and find this rapid survey of the Rhine a very pleas- 
ant affair. Had we grasped at more, we must have 
felt sorry to take less ; but, starting with moder- 
ate expectations, we find ourselves richer than we 
thought to be. 

At sunset we stopped for a little while at Bingen, 
just as the golden glory was bathing hill and valley 
in its light. In the evening we reached Bieberich, 
and, finding a tolerable room in one of the hotels, all 
of which are crowded at this season to overflowing, 
we remained till next morning, when we took train 
for Wiesbaden. Here we were installed in admira- 
ble apartments in the Hotel de la Rose, and made 
ourselves at home at once. In an hour we were 



THE HOT SPRINGS. 175 

ready to go out and look about us, and, taking a long 
stroll, acquired much knowledge of Wiesbaden, and 
more appetite for the dinner, which was served at a 
late hour. The hotel is filled to its utmost capaci- 
ty, and the table d'hote presents people from every 
land. 

At six in the morning the fine German band be- 
gins to play at the hot springs, the limping invalids 
creep out to drink the waters, and the young people 
come forth to indulge in the anomaly of a flirtation 
at sunrise. The long, covered walk is filled with 
people carrying glass mugs, and drinking their con- 
tents with more or less concentrated expressions of 
disgust at the infernal draught. If there is no other 
gain in the process, the breathing of this sweet, 
warm air, and the exercise of walking, must be very 
renovating to these victims of late hours and city 
dissipations. The subjects of the treatment are, 
many of them, quite unattractive to the eye of a 
visitor, and sometimes disease makes them abso- 
lutely loathsome. We left the chattering crowd 
to drink the steaming waters, contenting ourselves 
with a mere taste of the nauseating beverage, which 
nature serves up hot, and, congratulating ourselves 
that we could obtain health at a less disagreeable 
cost, walked out over the dewy road to the Greek 
Chapel, which occupies a conspicuous situation on 
the brow of a hill in the vicinity. The building is 



176 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

a mausoleum erected by the Duke in honor of his 
deceased wife, and the architecture makes it inter- 
esting. The view from the hill is charming. The 
Taunus Mountains surround the quiet valley very 
lovingly, as if to protect it from storms and cold. 

After breakfast we went out again, for more mi- 
nute examination of the peculiar features of a Ger- 
man watering-place, — in other words, we went to the 
Kur Saal, Assembly-Room, or Conversation-House, 
as it is indiscriminately named. On our way we 
visited many of the shops, which consist of long 
tables or counters spread in the open air, but pro- 
tected from the weather by a piazza. Upon these 
tables are spread out everything which the region 
can furnish to tempt strangers. Among the wares 
articles made of stag-horn occupy a prominent place, 
and it is curious to see the ingenuity with which 
the material is adapted to all sorts of purposes, and 
manufactured into all sorts of pretty things. Carv- 
ings in wood also begin to assert themselves, and to 
warn us that we are entering upon the countries 
where every peasant becomes a sculptor, if you 
but lend him a penknife. Beautiful agates and 
cornelians attract the eye, and are worked up in 
a thousand various forms. I fancy nobody ever 
leaves these tables without purchasing. The wait- 
ers — mostly women — are civil and friendly ; and 
although each one is laudably desirous of preventing 



WIESBADEN. 177 

you from being cheated at the other tables, they 
are seldom disagreeably obtrusive at their own. 

The Kur Saal is a handsome building, fronting 
on the Great Square. Its interior is quite magnifi- 
cent, — the promenade-rooms, the concert-hall, the 
gambling apartments, are all spacious and elegant. 
The crowd begins to congregate at an early hour, 
and remains till late, amusing itself more or less 
innocently, as the case may be. Throngs stand 
always around the roulette and the rouge-et-noir 
tables, and gold and silver change hands like flashes 
of lightning, the rapidity with which the ownership 
is decided being, to the uninitiated, not the least 
wonderful part of the game. From morning till 
night, and from night till morning, the wheel goes 
round, and the cards shuffle, the heaps of gold 
move over the green cloth, the solitary florin follows 
the score of Napoleons, and still the calm dealers sit 
unmoved, and the experienced players emulate their 
unchangeable stolidity. The gray-headed woman 
puts down her money with sagacious calculation 
of chances, that remain but chances after all her 
thought ; the young man flings his gold upon the 
board with a careless air, which is too often an ill- 
worn mask for devouring anxiety ; and the old and 
wary gamester sits close to the table, intently study- 
ing the game, and following its movements with the 
pin upon his card ; and all of these are only just 



178 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

sufficiently conscious of the presence of others to 
shroud the working of their thoughts beneath an 
impassible exterior. Some of them succeed so well 
as to banish all expression from their faces, and 
resemble automata obeying some machinery of mo- 
tion when they move at all. Not a quiver of the 
eyelid betrays when a man is on the verge of ruin, 
not a smile reveals the exultation of success. But 
there are sometimes present young wives who have 
not so learned to school their features, and who 
vainly strive to win those young men from the 
game ; or mothers who will not leave their sons till 
there is no hope ; or wise friends who draw back 
the outstretched hand of the thoughtless. There 
is no active temptation or persuasion upon the out- 
side to play ; only the silent, deadly influence of the 
heaps of gold, and the occasional rumor of large 
gains made by a lucky player. The maelstrom 
seems quite unconscious of the victims it sucks into 
its fatal whirl. 

The construction and arrangement of the baths 
are excellent, and immersion in the soft, smooth, 
warm liquid is very luxurious, in spite of its ques- 
tionable color. The baths are spacious, built of 
brick ; they are eight or ten feet long, three wide, 
and deep enough to allow of floating. You de- 
scend into the water by steps in the end of the 
bath ; and it may remind you, if you choose, of 



WIESBADEN. 179 

descending into a dark and solemn grave, or of the 
healing pool of Bethesda. The partition-walls of the 
apartments stop short before reaching the ceiling ; 
an arrangement which allows the steam to escape 
freely, and also insures against accident by the 
ease with which sounds are heard from the interior. 
This last precaution is quite valuable, owing to the 
size of the baths, which renders drowning quite a 
simple process. 

Two days satisfy us with Wiesbaden, and at length 
we leave the bubbling springs, the chattering peo- 
ple, the rattling dice, and the sighing invalids, and 
bid farewell to the amusing Babel of incongruous 
sounds. Six trains a day run to Frankfort, a dis- 
tance of less than thirty miles, and one of them has 
the honor of conveying us thither. On our way we 
have a fine view of Mayence and its cathedral, and 
number it among the places where we would, but 
cannot, stop. I give the distance from "Wiesbaden to 
Frankfort in miles ; but that is only in accordance 
with my American antecedents, and is not at all 
the way here. If you ask, " How far is Frankfort 
from Wiesbaden ? " or any similar question, the re- 
ply is invariably given in time, not miles. There- 
fore, to speak in foreign fashion, we will say that 
the distance in the present instance is an hour and 
a half ; and after that time has elapsed, we are trans- 
ported to the Hotel de Russie, which, we will remark 



180 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

en passant, is one of the finest in Europe. Onr 
room in the front of the hotel, overlooking the broad 
street, is palatial in size and finish. The lofty ceil- 
ing is elaborately adorned, the walls are hung with 
blue damask, the panels over the doors are pretty 
paintings, and the floor is tessellated with various 
woods. The galleries and halls through which we 
pass to the dining-room are quite romantic in their 
length and size, and dim, soft light ; and a spell of 
silence hangs over them, as we pass over the marble 
pavements and broad oaken staircases, quite incom- 
prehensible when we look at the crowd in the 
dining-room, and know that all those many feet must 
have passed through those apparently deserted halls. 
Frankfort is one of the pleasantest of the German 
cities, and has an air of business earnestness about it 
quite refreshing after long contact with the general 
inanity of these interior towns. The first thought 
which comes home to a stranger's mind is, how- 
ever, that Frankfort was the birthplace of Goethe, 
and we seek for every memorial of him. The house 
in which he was born still stands in the Great 
Hirschgraben, and his monument, surmounted with 
a noble statue, is in the square before the theatre. 
Then we must see the beautiful Ariadne of Dan- 
necker in the Bethman Museum, and drive through 
the charming gardens which surround the city with 
their embracing arms of living green. The view of 



FRANKFORT. 181 

the river from the broad and well-paved street which 
follows its windings is very fine. The Jews' quar- 
ter must also be seen ; it forms a strange contrast, 
with its ancient and overhanging houses, its narrow 
passages, and its black-browed inhabitants, to the 
airy and spacious and cheerful-looking portions of 
the city. The Hotel de Yille contains a large sa- 
loon, where, in the panels of the wall, are painted 
full-length portraits of all the German emperors, — a 
worthy set of gentlemen, about whom the woman in 
attendance gives you a florin's worth of information. 
You may have it in unusually musical German, or in 
very admirable French ; or, at a pinch, you may get 
a queer patchwork of comical broken English, — a 
language which seems susceptible of a greater num- 
ber of piquant dislocations and contortions than any 
other, and remains through all quite comprehensible 
to an Englishman or an American. If French or 
Italian were broken up into the absurd mixture 
which foreigners make of English, no native could 
understand the result ; while, with our irregular 
tongue, it makes only a few more alterations, and 
introduces another comic element. 



16 



CHAPTER XI. 

Drive from Frankfort to Homberg. — Activity of the Beggars. — Kur 
Saal at Homberg. — From Frankfort to Heidelberg. — The Castle of the 
Wolfsbrunnen. — Baden-Baden. — Visit to the Old and New Castles. 

— Dungeons of the Latter. — Strasburg and its Minster. — From Stras- 
burg to Basle. — Moonlight on the Bridge of Basle. — By Train and 
Diligence to Lucerne. — Lake of Lucerne, and Ascent of Mount Bighi. 

— Sail down the Lake to Fluelen. 

The drive from Frankfort to Homberg, about 
nine miles distant, is extremely pleasant, and good 
carriages for the excursion are furnished at the 
hotels at a moderate charge. Indeed, all our hotel 
experiences at Frankfort were pleasant, and in- 
duced us to resume our faith in the goodness of 
our tempers, which had in these latter days met 
with frequent and extravagant provocation. The 
most careless traveller objects to a style of imposi- 
tion which seems based upon a landlord's conviction 
that the said traveller has not brains enough to 
know how many days he has remained in a place, 
nor of how many people his party is composed. 
Self-love rebels when indolence would submit ; and 
when extortion becomes uncivil, it must be put 
aside. Travellers are generally rather amiable, and 



DRIVE TO HOMBERG. 183 

connive with their enemies up to a certain point ; — 
it is because this point is too often passed, that they 
become belligerent. We hear of the one warlike 
demonstration, but the world is silent about the 
many unconditional surrenders. 

We started for Homberg at an early hour, and 
drove at a good pace over the pleasant road. There 
are numerous turnpikes on the way, at which we 
paid toll, not to any visible or apparently responsi- 
ble individual, but to a tin pan fastened on the end 
of a long rod, which was poked into the carriage 
from an open window of the toll-house. As no 
extra exertion is demanded on the traveller's side, 
he has no right to complain of the laziness of the 
toll-keeper. As we drove along past cultivated 
fields, we saw many cows harnessed in carts, and 
dragging heavy loads, and many women engaged 
in occupations which made them look even less 
feminine than the laboring cows. As a fitting re- 
verse for the picture, we were followed and inces- 
santly annoyed by stout young and middle-aged men, 
begging — not for charity, which in their case was 
a mere farce — but for cash. The ease with which 
even the cripples managed to keep up with the 
horses, the strength of their lungs, and sometimes 
the mischievous expression of their countenances, 
showed that they were carrying on begging simply 
as a trade. They doubtless make money out of it, 



184 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

by carrying into practice so well the plan suggested 
in Scripture, — making people give because of their 
importunity. 

Homberg is a charming little place, with fine 
views of the Taunus Mountains. Its Kur Saal is 
uncommonly magnificent, and contains a dining-hall 
considered one of the handsomest in Europe. It is 
a hundred and twenty feet long, fifty wide, and forty 
high, and is very richly painted and .stuccoed. The 
dinner was not in accordance with the apartment. 
The roulette-tables were crowded, but the pretty gar- 
dens were quite deserted. Nature stands but a small 
chance with most of those who visit these localities. 
"We returned to Frankfort at sunset, having enjoyed 
the day to the utmost. Another drive through the 
public gardens, with their endless extent of grav- 
elled paths, and shady nooks, and flowery plains, con- 
vinced us that Frankfort is a very charming city. 

The scenery between Frankfort and Heidelberg is 
renowned for its beauty and variety, — one wishes, 
for a while, to be all eyes. As for Heidelberg itself, 
the subject so often expatiated upon is not yet ex- 
hausted. Its beauty is fresh, though looked upon 
for the twentieth time ; its charms not half men- 
tioned, though pages are devoted to them. The 
frowning castle, magnificent even in its ruin ; the 
town, with its antique quaintness ; the hills, with 
their wooded steeps ; the river, with its silver gleam- 



HEIDELBERG. 185 

ings ; the Wolfsbrunnen, with its deep glens, its lovely 
waterfalls, and its secluded beauty, — all combine 
to make of Heidelberg a spot as unique as it is en- 
chanting. Nature seems to have delighted to com- 
bine here all the elements of beauty, and art has 
added to its charms by its own efforts. The castle, 
with its noble proportions, its elaborate ornamenta- 
tions, still perfect where the walls remain stand- 
ing, is not only impressive in its general outline, 
but beautiful in detail. A whole summer might be 
pleasantly spent among the nooks and crevices of 
the castle and the terrace, and amid the galleries 
above and under the ground ; while to climb all the 
hill-tops, and dive into all the glens, where some- 
thing ever new and ever beautiful invites you, 
would fill up a second season. Each freestone 
statue in the long row of niches in the one nearly 
perfect side of the exterior wall, is full of life and 
spirit ; and every carved window-frame would repay 
the climber who should seek for nearer inspection 
of it. A portion of the less injured division of the 
castle has been fitted up as a picture-gallery, and has 
been, for many years, the residence of the artist to 
whom the paintings belong. They repay examina- 
tion, and, even if they did not, one should go 
through the rooms simply to have the privilege of 
looking out at the windows. 

Of course we descended to the cellars, and looked 

i 6 ' 



186 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

at the Big Tun, and the clock from which, at a 
given signal, the hideous old man pops out on the 
unwary visitor. We dined also at the Wolfsbrun- 
nen, so famous for its fish, which are conducted to 
the hands of the cook through sluiceways leading 
from the mountain brooks, and which are cooked 
and served in the summer-house built in the most 
romantic part of the glen. It is hard to leave the 
balcony, — which stretches into the leafy shade, 
and lulls you with the near murmur of the water- 
fall, — even to eat famous fishes. The drive to and 
from the "Wolfsbrmmen is — as every step in and 
around Heidelberg seems to be — full of various 
and never-ceasing beauties. 

Three hours and a half of easy railroad travel- 
ling bring us to Baden-Baden, whose name revives 
memories of all the fashionable novels one has 
ever read, but which also possesses much more legit- 
imate claims upon the remembrance. The railroad 
passes through a remarkably attractive country, and 
allows of occasional really beautiful distant views. 
The land stretches far away to the south in wide 
plains, beyond which the peaks of the Yosges Moun- 
tains rise against the sky. We intersect the fa- 
mous avenue leading into Carlsruhe, and see the 
poplars which line the two miles of its length, 
many of them of almost incredible height. The 
stiff outline of these trees, and the regularity with 



BADEN-BADEN. 187 

which they are placed, give a military effect to the 
view when seen from a little distance ; one might 
mistake them for King Frederick's famous regiment 
of grenadiers. 

Baden-Baden nestles among the embosoming hills 
as if afraid of the two huge castles which frown upon 
it from the neighboring heights. These are, first, the 
very ancient castle of the early Dukes of Baden, which 
crowns the summit of the lofty hill, and was once an 
imposing structure, but is now only a picturesque 
ruin ; the second, midway down the mountain, is 
the more modern, though still venerable, castle of 
the present reigning family. The baths are, of 
course, the chief attraction to visitors ; but there is 
beauty enough to justify a good deal of enthusiasm 
in an artist. The town is pretty in its details of 
irregular streets and pleasant residences ; the hotels 
are numerous, extensive, and elegant. A little 
stream meanders through the glens, and the whole 
valley is a picture of peace. 

The Kur Saal, or Conversations Haus, is a showy 
building, gorgeously fitted up, and crowded with 
gayly-dressed people. The band of music — which 
plays in the open air — is the finest we have yet 
heard, but hardly wins listeners from the chat- 
tering fashionables who dawdle listlessly in the 
walks, or sit in groups upon the piazzas. The 
gaming-tables present a more serious aspect here 



188 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

than at most of the watering-places ; the betting is 
heavier, and the whole performance wears an air of 
business which is not to be lightly broken in upon for 
the less important pursuit of pleasure. The predomi- 
nance of blacklegs resorting here has, of late years, 
injured the social reputation of the place. The holy 
serenity of nature in this mountain-spot seems to 
rebuke these hideous passions of bad men, and for- 
bid its desecration by such unworthy pastime. 

A drive up the steep mountain, on which, in mid- 
air, hangs the old castle, is only exceeded in beauty 
by the view which meets you on the attainment of 
the summit. You may — if you are not too dizzy 
— stand on the parapet of one of those half-ruined 
towers, and look sheer down into the depths of those 
fearful ravines, the bottom of which is, to your 
keenest vision, only the top of lofty trees ; and, 
when the head swims with looking downwards, lift 
your eyes to the far-off horizon, and take in the 
details of that almost limitless expanse. The Black 
Forest is around you ; sweet valleys wind among the 
dark hills ; the Rhine smiles in the sunshine, and 
gleams amid the fields and vineyards and villages. 
The Yosges guard the western boundary of this 
magnificent panorama, the Alps stand sentinel upon 
the south, and sixty miles of distance spread out 
before you in the direction of Strasburg, so that, in 
a clear day, you may see its lofty spire pointing to 



BADEN-BADEN. 189 

the sky. The ruins of the old castle are quite 
extensive, and it seems as if none but a race of 
giants could ever have raised such huge battlements 
and towers and halls in this apparently inaccessible 
spot. It is difficult to tell where the rock ends 
and the work of man begins, so skilfully do the 
creeping plants and the mouldering stones conceal 
the foundations. The labor of erecting such a for- 
tress, in such a situation, must have been almost 
incredible. The " New Castle," as it is called to 
distinguish it from the Old, though it was built in 
1689, or thereabouts, stands some way down the 
hill, and is consequently less difficult of access. It 
is the present residence of the Duke, and contains 
some superb state apartments. The edifice has no 
external beauty, but is a clumsy collection of build- 
ings, the chief pleasantness of which is owing to the 
sunny and sheltered aspect of the place. The beauty 
and luxury of the more modern apartments are 
hardly able to efface the impression the visitor 
receives from descending into the dungeons and 
torture-rooms of the older portion. Winding stair- 
cases conduct to dismal cells in the solid rock ; the 
oubliette reveals but half its hideous depth to the 
candles that are thrust down into it ; the Hall of 
Judgment is sulkily silent as to the fate of those 
once brought within its fatal walls. This was 
probably the seat of the secret tribunal, or Yehm- 



190 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

gericht, so fearful in its day of power, and so 
invisible in its machinery. It is by no means un- 
pleasant to emerge again from these noisome dun- 
geons in the bowels of the earth, and breathe the 
fresh warm air, and feel the blessed freedom of 
the sunshine. Nothing else can give so powerful 
an impression of the reality of the cruelties of by- 
gone days, as standing face to face with these elo- 
quent evidences of the ingenuity of torture. Are 
we, who shrink from single wounds, and fear the 
very name of pain, the same in flesh and blood as 
those ruthless old barons who looked on torture as 
a pastime, — ay, and bore it, too, without flinching ? 

The springs are thirteen in number, and maintain 
an unchanging temperature throughout the year. 
They burst out from the rocks behind the parish 
church, and are thence carried through pipes over 
the town. The reservoirs are closed with iron 
doors, on opening which the steam rushes out with 
great violence. The mildness of the climate here 
is attributed, in part, to the warmth imparted to the 
earth by these hot springs. The portion of the town 
in their vicinity is always free from snow, and is 
called "Hell." It is certainly a prettier place than 
its namesake, and the degree of warmth is much 
less uncomfortable than we are taught to suppose 
prevalent in the region referred to. 

The country between Baden-Baden and Strasburg 



STRASBURG. 191 

retains the same picturesque beauty as that we have 
been enjoying for the last few days ; we already 
begin to feel the influence of the Switzer-land that 
we are approaching. In order to stop at Strasburg, 
we were obliged to leave the cars at Kelil, on the 
opposite side of the river, letting our luggage con- 
tinue the journey to Basle by itself. We crossed 
the river in an omnibus, the custom-house examina- 
tion taking place upon the bridge. The regulations 
are extremely strict, and are sometimes made an- 
noying to travellers. 

After a short rest at the Hotel Metz, we proceeded 
to the chief shrine of our present pilgrimage, the 
Strasburg Minster. We had timed our visit so as 
to see the noonday performance of the marvellous 
clock before leaving. We were so charmed with the 
exterior, that it was a long while before we entered 
the door. The exquisite delicacy of the archi- 
tecture, the heaven-piercing spire, the soft iron-brown 
tint which age and weather-stains have imparted to 
the whole building, and which is relieved by patches 
of green moss, each and all add to the impression of 
grandeur and beauty. I almost felt my Rouen par- 
tiality shaken, as I stood before this admirable union 
of massive strength and delicate beauty. It is how- 
ever so unlike my first love, St. Ouen, that I recon- 
ciled myself to unqualified admiration of both, as 
not necessarily clashing with each other. It seems 



192 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

quite impossible that the lace-like airiness of this 
spire, which rises some five hundred feet in height, 
should be of hewn stone ; and standing directly be- 
neath it, and following with the eye its clear and 
sharp-cut lines, the height, great as it really is, be- 
comes exaggerated beyond all measurement, from 
the absence of anything by which a reckoning may 
be made, except the infinite vagueness of the blue 
sky. Figures die out of remembrance, ceasing to 
convey any idea, and we willingly believe that the 
clouds are really entered by the ambitious spire. 

The interior of the cathedral is also full of 
beauty. A " dim, religious light " pervades it at 
noonday, and the soft air seems laden with the 
prayers that have been uttered in the sanctuary 
for so many years, and from so many sorrow- 
stricken hearts. The lofty arches are supported 
by clustered pillars, which give an appearance of 
delicacy without detracting from their strength ; 
and the windows are stained with the rainbow's 
own hues, so mingled and contrasted that the effect 
is genial rather than gorgeous. 

The clock is placed in one of the transepts, and 
draws many visitors at the hour of noon. The ma- 
chinery performs various minor evolutions at each 
hour and each quarter-hour ; but it is at twelve 
that the great pantomime is gone through. We 
watched the twelve Apostles as they came forth one 



STRASBURG. 193 

by one and reverently bowed before the Master, 
who lifted his hand in benediction over each. The 
angel strikes the hour, the figure of Time solemnly 
re-echoes the strokes, a second angel turns his hour- 
glass, the gaudy cock crows thrice and flaps his 
many-colored wings, — and then the puppets re- 
lapse into inaction, and the crowd that came to see 
them disperses, leaving the Minster to its twilight 
stillness, and the clock with no other spectator than 
the effigy of Erwin of Steinbach, which still bends 
over the balcony and seems to gaze upon his work 
with impish curiosity. 

The other sights of Strasburg are the tomb of 
Marshal Saxe and the monument to Gutemberg ; 
but, in fact, the whole place is both curious and 
interesting. The streets bear the marks of age in 
all their details, whether we look at the houses built 
upon them, the worn pavements beneath, or even 
the people we meet in them. The shops — at least 
all which we passed in our wanderings, which carried 
us over a great deal of ground — were filled with 
articles that seemed to have survived the deluge. I 
felt the fossiliferous state to be contagious, and my 
regret at leaving the city was lessened by my fears 
in this respect. 

The time from Strasburg to Basle is five hours ; 
and on our arrival we found all the best hotels so 
crowded, that we finally took rooms at a small house 

17 >r 



194 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

near the river, which played the part of a de- 
pendance to the larger hotels, on an emergency. 
The situation consoled us for all deficiencies in ac- 
commodation ; — our windows, facing the Rhine, 
which is here one of the noisiest of rivers, drew 
us continually near them, fascinated by the riotous 
mirth of the laughing waves. The bridge looked 
so fair in the light of the moon, that we spent half 
the night upon it, too excited to feel fatigue. It is 
not often in one's life that heaven and earth, and 
air and water, condescend to unite in toning a 
picture into perfection just when one can best enjoy 
it ; but this summer night all things were in 
harmony. It is easy to conceive of the passionate 
love which a river like the Rhine excites in the 
hearts of those who are born upon its banks. 
There seems something almost human in its ap- 
parent sympathy with different moods ; and, less 
terrible than the sea, it is not unlike it in its 
mysterious suggestions. 

We were unable to bestow any time upon the 
antiquities of this most venerable old town of Basle, 
or to visit any of the manufactories of silk and 
ribbons for which it is renowned. We long to 
be among the Alps, and every other attraction 
dwindles into comparative insignificance. So in 
the morning, we went by the first train to Sissach, 
where we were to take the diligence for Lucerne. 



LUCERNE. 195 

The cars were very full, but we were so fortu- 
nate at Sissach as to secure the coupe in one of 
the carriages, and thus to obtain at our ease the 
opening views of the Alps, which on this road are 
very beautiful. We were driven over the ground 
at a pace sufficiently slow to allow a leisurely sur- 
vey of the country ; and the whole day, with the 
exception of an interval for dinner, passed in dreamy 
enjoyment of the fresh summer air, and the lovely 
pictures which greeted us at each turning of the 
road. We reached Lucerne just after sunset. The 
Schweizer Hof was ready for us with an elaborate 
meal, half dinner and half supper, as if compassion- 
ating our famished state. Although Lucerne is but 
a small town, it is very grand in its hotel arrange- 
ments, and yields to nobody in the etiquette and 
ceremony which attend the operations of lodging 
and feeding travellers. It is amusing to see the 
manners of the great world outdone in a locality 
quite uncongenial to them ; and were it not that 
the Schweizer Hof is really a very capital hotel, and 
the preparation for entertainment the presage of 
good cheer to the hungry, we should have often 
smiled at the elaborations of its daily life. Lucerne 
is a general stopping-place for travellers in going to 
and returning from the Alps and Italy, and in the 
height of the season is so much crowded, that for 
the time the rush lasts nearly every house in any 



196 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

degree of proximity to the hotels becomes a lodg- 
ing-house, or dependance, for those who take their 
meals at the hotels, but cannot be supplied with 
apartments. The Lake of Lucerne spreads itself 
out in serene calm beneath the summer sun, or 
lashes itself into white and angry waves when the 
rough winds come down from the mountains. It is 
completely embosomed in mountains, and the mighty 
ranges lift their snowy peaks to catch the earliest 
rays of morning, or retain the last gleams of the 
setting sun. From the front of our hotel the mag- 
nificent panorama sj3reads itself before the spectator, 
and demands an almost awe-struck admiration. The 
jagged peak of Mount Pilatus is one of the chief fea- 
tures in the view ; but the eye hardly knows where 
to rest longest, when all is so fair. Pilatus on the 
right, and Righi on the left of the picture, form a 
fitting frame for the emerald-green waters of the 
beautiful lake. 

We did homage to the monument of the Swiss 
Guards who fell in defence of Louis XVI. on the 
10th of August, 1792. The design is by Thorwald- 
sen, and represents a colossal lion, which is cut in 
the face of the sandstone cliff. A broken spear 
protrudes from his death-wound, but even in dying 
he strives to protect a shield bearing the fleur-de-lis 
of France. It is a picture full of sadness, and the 
secluded garden, and its tiny pond edged with wild- 



LAKE OP LUCERNE. 197 

flowers and reflecting the image of the noble brute, 
seem quite in unison with the spirit of the artist's 
creation. 

The sail over the lake to Weggis, at the foot of 
Mount Righi, occupies an hour, and the steamer 
leaves Lucerne in season to allow travellers to make 
the ascent of the mountain before sunset. The 
weather is just suited to the expedition, and the 
storms which have discomfited all the travellers 
here for three weeks past have fled away, and left 
a cloudless sky and a pure and transparent air. 
The lake glowed and palpitated in the intense sun- 
light as we glided along our pleasant way ; and 
many a merry laugh arose among the good-natured 
travellers on board, which formed a pleasing con- 
trast to the grumbling fussiness of some English 
people, who had left behind a part of their luggage, 
and whom the captain found it quite impossible to 
pacify. We were glad to leave them when we dis- 
embarked at Weggis, and my last recollection of the 
steamer is illuminated by the lustre of the old gen- 
tleman's inflamed countenance, and the hardly less 
rosy face of his rotund spouse, who flapped her 
brown straw hat most resentfully. 

The Lake of Lucerne offers every variety of 
beauty to the eye, and ranks high even in Swiss 
scenery. Bold precipices and towering hills bend 
down to gaze into those marvellous green waves ; 

17* 



198 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

range after range of mountains intervenes between 
you and the horizon ; the near and lower sum- 
mits are verdant pasture-lands, now clothed in 
mantles of quivering green ; the distant peaks are 
covered with perpetual snows, that glitter in the 
noonday sun. Sheltered valleys reveal themselves 
between the hills, where cottages cluster or flocks 
are grazing ; goats lie tranquilly upon the edges of 
dark and fearful ravines, or browse upon the sweet 
grass growing in the clefts of the slippery rocks ; 
cascades fall like silver threads over the rough hill- 
sides ; the deep blue sky arches over the whole view, 
which forms a picture not easily forgotten, — one, 
too, which the artist seeks in vain to copy. The 
little steamer glides along very quietly among all 
this beauty, and at length draws up at the landing- 
place of the little hamlet of Weggis, which nestles 
at the foot of the Kighi, and affords rest to travellers 
who wait for the steamer. 

We mounted on the ponies which are in waiting 
to carry lazy people up the mountain, and were 
soon upon our way to the summit. We looked back 
pityingly, from time to time, upon the pedestrians 
behind. It takes little longer to walk up than to 
ride ; but the fatigue must be very great, excepting 
to those who have served a recent apprenticeship at 
climbing. The heat of the sun was intense during 
the first half of the journey. In the valley it was 



ASCENT OF THE RIGHT. 199 

almost suffocating ; but as we rose higher and 
higher, the air grew fresher and more invigorating, 
till, as we neared the summit, it became really cold. 
The views which are visible at different stages of 
the ascent are almost unsurpassable. The green 
lake lies just beneath ; the precipices jDile them- 
selves high above your head, and deep ravines yawn 
at your side ; the sunny valleys shelter herds and 
flocks ; and the distant peaks rise bleak and bare 
into the air. It takes about four hours to ascend 
the mountain ; the path is in many places quite 
dangerous, and requires a guide at the head of each 
horse ; but the views attained at every new upward 
step distract the eyes and the thought from all 
apprehension, even in the usually timid. The heat 
of the sun, in this four hours of unalloyed bask- 
ing, effectually warmed us, and thawed out the last 
remains of the chilliness which has pursued us ever 
since we left the damps of Holland. At last we 
reached the summit, and here the prospect widened 
into distracting extent ; — it is as if one saw the 
kingdoms of the whole earth. 

The clear day soon closed in a gorgeous sunset, 
thus giving us the first instalment of what we came 
to see, but which does not reward all who toil up the 
height. We follow after an unusually protracted 
storm, having met many disappointed travellers, who 
found Switzerland a region of fogs and rain. We 



200 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

were willing to have rain in Holland, where moisture 
is the order of the day ; and hope to reap our reward 
through this portion of our journey, where clear 
weather is more necessary, though by no means 
more common, than elsewhere. We had, in all their 
perfection, the sights we had climbed nearly six thou- 
sand feet to see ; — a flaming sunset, wherein crim- 
son and purple and gold strove for mastery as on a 
battle-ground, followed soon after by the rising of 
the full moon in pale, clear majesty, all white and 
fair, as if to shame the more flaunting exit of the sun ; 
and when the morning came, a sunrise which was 
" one of a thousand." To appreciate our good for- 
tune, we had but to look in our handbook, wherein 
it is emphatically set down : " Travellers should jDre- 
pare themselves for disappointment, since the trouble 
of an ascent is often repaid with clouds and an im- 
penetrable mist, instead of a fine sunrise and an ex- 
tensive prospect." When a prospect embraces — as 
does that from Mount Righi — a circuit of three hun- 
dred miles, it may indeed be called extensive, and re- 
quire a clear atmosphere for its complete enjoyment. 
The melancholy experience of travellers in this re- 
spect is very ludicrously set forth in lines which, 
though familiar to all who go over the ground, may 
be new to some of my stay-at-home readers. They 
describe the whole thing so admirably, that I may 
be pardoned for transcribing them from the hand- 
book : — 



A NIGHT ON MOUNT RIGHI. 201 

" Nine weary up-hill miles we sped, 

The setting sun to see ; 
Sulky and grim he went to bed, 

Sulky and grim went we. 
Seven sleepless hours we tossed, and then, 

The rising sun to see, 
Sulk} r and grim we rose again, 

Sulky and grim rose he." 

The hotel was fearfully crowded. The chambers 
were appropriated to the ladies, and the gentleman 
who found a place upon the floor or upon a dining- 
table where he might stretch his weary limbs was 
comparatively lucky. The hay-lofts were full, the 
servants of the establishment let their downy couches 
at a premium, and every available nook was made 
serviceable. People retired — if the process can be 
called retiring — at an early hour, in order to catch 
a little sleep before the great performance of the 
sunrise should come off. About three o'clock a 
horn like those which blew down the walls of Jeri- 
cho awoke the sleeping echoes, as well as the sleep- 
ing travellers, and from every quarter poured forth a 
promiscuous array of men, women, and children, who 
rushed out to " see the sun rise." When it is ex- 
plained that the house is only planned for the accom- 
modation of two hundred persons, and that on this 
night six hundred had been packed away somewhere, 
the state of things will be understood without minute 
description. Something more may be known of the 



202 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

misery of many of these people by mentioning that 
they had been travelling the day before in the 
intense heat of the valleys, and, as luggage is an 
impossibility on the Righi, those who had not pro- 
vided themselves with shawls and cloaks either 
shivered in thin garments, or appeared in quilts and 
bed-blankets as some protection against the deadly 
chill of the early morning. How grotesque were 
the flapping straw hats of the night before, with 
their faded bunches of red rhododendron stuck in 
the crown ! How forlorn were the muslin dresses in 
the pitiless breeze, and how that crowd wandered 
hither and thither upon the Eighi Culm, in search 
of that sunrise that delayed to come ! And when it 
did come, outdoing all that had been promised, half 
that crowd took one look as the sun showed the top 
of his forehead in the east, and then, with even 
greater eagerness than that which brought them 
hither, rushed back to the house to get the earliest 
cup of coffee and the first slice of toast. But the 
sun rose on, and soon showed himself completely to 
those who did wait. The rosy light crept over the 
hill-tops, and peeped into the dark valleys, and 
smiled at the sleeping lakes ; and at last illumi- 
nated the whole scene, and shed his most radiant 
beams among the innumerable Alps. The monarch 
of the morning cared little for the hungry crowd 
who were snarling over their breakfast, and went on 



DESCENT OF THE MOUNTAIN. 203 

painting his picture for the eye of God to look at 
and call good. 

The hotel kept on the summit is something quite 
remarkable, when the difficulties of its position are 
considered. Those who regard the log-hut on the 
top of Mount Washington as a wonderful achieve- 
ment, would be surprised to find a dinner of a dozen 
courses properly served on the Righi Culm. The 
Alp is, however, a very different sort of fellow from 
the bleak hill of New England, and much more hos- 
pitable in his bearing towards man and beast. The 
whole of the Righi is one vast pasture-land, whereon 
two thousand cattle find ample summer feed, and 
the air is not unpleasantly cold in the day-time. 
The turf growing on the slopes has a glow and fresh- 
ness about it rivalling the finest English lawns. 
Some of the mountains in its vicinity, however, are 
utterly bare and rocky. 

After a comfortable breakfast, and a farewell 
glance at the wonderful views, we commenced our 
descent of the mountain. I was seated in a chaise 
a porteurs, with two sturdy bearers, who made as 
much of my weight as if I had been a canary-bird 
on its perch, and who set out at a most extraordi- 
nary sort of dog-trot, by which I obtained about as 
violent exercise as if I had been rolled from the top 
of the mountain to the bottom. I was obliged to 
restrain their ardor at the first possible opportunity, 



204 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

or I should have been beyond the aid of the surgeon 
before arriving at the end of the journey. Even 
when the bearers walk, the motion is very disagree- 
able, and the sharpness of the descent, and the 
jumps and jerks which are inevitable, oblige the 
passenger to sit backwards and gaze into the heav- 
ens at an angle of forty-five degrees, so that the 
whole effect is more peculiar than delightful. We 
halted to breathe at the midway fountain, and after 
a sweet draught of its sparkling waters proceeded 
down to the landing-place, which we reached in am- 
ple season for a slight breakfast number two, and 
the morning's boat from Lucerne. 

The sail down the lake is full of variety and 
charm. The shores present every form and pic- 
turesque outline, and the green depths reflect the 
crags and hills, or mirror the smiling green vales. 
Much romantic interest also appertains to this local- 
ity, and the recollections of our childhood are stirred 
within us as we pass TelPs Chapel, which marks the 
spot where the hero sprang ashore and escaped from 
the tyrant Gessler. It would be treason to question 
the existence of William Tell while we remain upon 
ground hallowed by the traditions of his bravery 
and patriotism ; so we look reverently at the locali- 
ties associated with his name, and care not that 
critics deem him a mere myth. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Post Carriage at Fluelen. — Travelling Companions. — Pass of St. 
Gothard. — Alpine Flowers. — Dirt and Heat of Bellinzona. — Como. 
— From Como to Milan. — Milan Cathedral. — " Last Supper " of Da 
Vinci. — Brera Gallery. — Plains of Lombardy. — Lake Como by 
Moonlight. 

We landed at Fluelen, a pretty little place at 
the lower end of the lake, and rested ourselves 
for a while in the inn. "We were so fortunate as 
to find a comfortable open carriage for the next 
stage in our journey, and, having united in the 
bonds of travelling friendship with an English 
lady and gentleman who were going the same 
route, we fraternized concerning the said carriage, 
and determined to enjoy each others' society as 
long as possible. We were in excellent spirits ; 
our companions had already approved themselves 
to us as thoroughly agreeable persons, and nothing 
could exceed the general amiability. In fact, the 
circumstances were such as to produce good humor, 
unless we were of harder natures than most people 
would be willing to acknowledge. We established 
ourselves in the roomy vehicle, after a hearty laugh 

18 



206 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

at its absurd aspect when viewed from the out- 
side ; but having finally ascended into its heights, 
and descended into its depths, we found it an ad- 
mirable affair for the stowage of our indiscriminate 
heaps of cloaks, and shawls, and bags, and canes, 
and baskets. Our horses were of different colors ; 
our driver had his younger brother's clothes on ; the 
splendor of our carriage, and even its power to 
shelter from sun and rain, were sadly marred by the 
wear and tear of the many years since it had been 
in the neighborhood of a carriage-maker ; — but who 
cared for these things, when the Alps were close by 
us, and the day was delightful, and the company 
friendly ? We unanimously decided that it was 
much more amusing than it would have been with 
things in better order ; so the driver put on his 
jaunty hat, mounted triumphantly upon his battered 
coach-box, cracked his whip loudly, and we started 
off with a rushing, unequal motion, caused partly 
by the peculiar working of the harness, and partly 
by the fact that one horse was in a rough canter, 
and the other in a most reluctant walk. 

Of the noble scenery of the Pass of the St. Gothard 
it is useless to attempt description, since it is famil- 
iarized to everybody by pictures, and since one can 
but repeat words already made use of a thousand 
times. The lofty walls of rock, the fathomless 
ravines, the cavernous hollows, into which we pene- 



AMSTEG. 207 

trated only to emerge upon the brow of a precipice 
from which we could look far out over the valleys 
beneath, and the wonderful post-road, winding and 
writhing its blue-white length among all these in- 
tricacies, and mastering heights and depths with 
scientific ease, — all these things called forth our ad- 
miring exclamations. At Amsteg, the little village 
where we stopped to dine and rest awhile from the 
intense heat, we were surprised to find one of the 
most charming views of the whole journey, but of 
which we found no mention in any of our books. 
We strolled out after dinner, and found a deep and 
shadowy glen where the air was fresh and cool, and, 
sitting down by the stream which rippled through 
it, spent a long time in quiet enjoyment of the 
Alpine view. The mountains rise almost perpen- 
dicularly from the tiny hollow in which the hamlet 
is built, and one could easily imagine that there 
was no path leading out of the sequestered depths. 

The ascent of the Pass was of course slow, and 
somewhat laborious ; the descent rapid, and at 
times alarming. The savage scenery of the Devil's 
Bridge drew us all from the carriage, and, in fact, 
during a large part of the ascent the gentlemen 
walked by the side of the vehicle, occasionally in- 
dulging in an impromptu scramble after some un- 
usually brilliant Alpine flower, to add to the rivalry 
of the ladies' bouquets, which, in consequence of 



208 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

their exertions, attained to great beauty and size. 
The glowing colors of these mountain wild-flowers 
form a strange and most pleasant contrast to the 
general dreariness of these wild regions, where des- 
olate rocks and vast fields of snow look up unceas- 
ingly to heaven, — where 

" full desertness 

lieth silent-bare, 

Beneath the blenching vertical eye-glare 
Of the absolute heavens," 

save where these very flowers smile up from the 
scanty soil, and give a look of life and beauty 
to the otherwise oppressive desolation. This deso- 
lation varies much in its effect upon the mind at 
different localities among the Alpine passes. Some- 
times the serenity of the still mountain masses 
seems as if it had not been disturbed since the 
creation, and the solemn stillness penetrates the 
soul with speechless awe ; at other times, the scene 
is as if seething chaos had but just found rest, 
and another impulse might, in a moment, set in mo- 
tion the huge rocks that seem to quiver and shake 
in uneasy expectation ; and one waits to hear the 
stillness broken by the word of command. At times 
the stillness is swept away by the brawling of the 
mountain torrent, which, heard at first from afar, 
has a musical rhythm in its rising and falling with 
the wind which brings it to the ear, but which, as 



THE LION D'OK. 209 

we stand upon the edge of the precipice and look 
down upon the leaping water, almost deafens you 
with its reverberations among the hills. 

We reached Hospital at half past eight in the 
evening, somewhat fatigued with our long day's ex- 
citement and exertion. The Lion d'Or Hotel has a 
fine name, and perhaps that is all that ought to be 
expected of it ; at any rate, any other hopes which 
sanguine travellers may entertain will be disap- 
pointed. Sleep, however, is a great restorer, and 
the stock of good humor with which we left Fluelen 
had not yet been exhausted ; so we laughed at our 
sufferings from numerous inconveniences, instead of 
making ourselves still more uncomfortable by getting 
angry. 

In the morning, after an execrable breakfast, we 
hired another carriage, somewhat similar to the one 
which brought us from Fluelen, and left the Lion 
d'Or without bestowing upon it the benison of grate- 
ful travellers. All our grievances disappeared, how- 
ever, under the delicious influences of heaven and 
earth ; and it may be supposed that the inn-keepers 
in these parts calculate upon these influences to 
mollify the legitimate disgust which their proceed- 
ings inspire. We dined at Faido, where we found 
quite tolerable accommodations, and some of the 
prettiest wood-carvings we have met with, from 
which we added largely to our stock. 

18* N 



210 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

After an hour or two of rest at Faido, we set out 
again, and drove leisurely through a succession of 
picturesque valleys, and over high hills, from which 
we had wider views of beauty till an hour or more 
after sunset. The day's journey may be summed 
up by naming valleys and waterfalls, hamlets and 
mountain defiles, forests and snow-clad summits ; 
but any other description, however ambitious, seems 
quite inadequate, while the remembrance of the 
places themselves remains at all fresh in the memory 
of the narrator. It is only when the lapse of time 
or the substitution of new beauty has obscured the 
fresh and individual glory of a scene, that we have 
patience to endeavor to describe, or to dwell upon 
the written descriptions of others. We stopped for 
the night at Bellinzona, a town which, together with 
its " best hotel," may be fully described only by one 
concise English word, which I cull from my vocab- 
ulary for their especial use, — nasty. 

From Bellinzona, still by post and still through 
a picturesque country, to Como. A heavy thunder- 
shower stopped us at a little village on the way, and 
freshened up the hills and vineyards, and painted 
the sunset sky for us. We were delayed a little 
while at the custom-house, so that we did not 
reach the Albergo del Angelo till after dark. The 
evening was delightful, however, and our rooms, 
looking over the Lake of Como, kept us upon our 



ITALIAN INNS. 211 

balcony till a late hour. Here also we had — what 
all must expect at the inns of Northern Italy, with 
but very rare and shining exceptions — dirt, starva- 
tion, and extortion. There are floors that ought 
never to be stepped on, beds that ought never to be 
slept in, dinners that ought never to be eaten, and 
bills that ought never to be paid. Yet still the 
country swarms with delighted travellers, for the 
scenery and the climate make amends for all. How 
can one quarrel with a landlord who lisps his de- 
mands in sweet Italian vowels ; or grumble at bad 
bread, when the soft murmur of Lake Como's waves 
steals in at the open casement ; or care for a bed to 
sleep in, when the golden moon woos you to your 
window, and the night air has no chill in its breath ? 
At seven in the morning, after " going through 
the gestures " of taking breakfast, we mounted into 
an omnibus, and were driven a long way to the rail- 
way station for Milan. The road runs through the 
fair and smiling plains of Lombardy, and presents 
to the eye an unceasing succession of cultivated 
fields, of vineyards and orchards, where peaches, 
pears, apricots, and grapes grow in almost untama- 
ble luxuriance. The huge vines are held up by 
rough framework, or festoon themselves from tree 
to tree at their pleasure, and seem to riot in their 
own superabundant growth. It is a delight to the 
eye to look forth over these plains. They abso- 



212 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

lutely laugh with fertility, and rejoice in the life- 
giving sunshine. 

At Milan we found very elegant accommodations 
at the Hotel de la Yille, and were no longer forced 
to call upon our romance to compensate for prosaic 
deficiencies. The hotel is, as the whole city seems 
to be, laid out on a grand scale, and with an air of 
splendor pervading everything. We should have 
enjoyed a prolonged stay, and a more minute exam- 
ination of the place than at this time we can allow 
ourselves ; for the queen of England will not put off 
her visit to Paris for our better convenience, and 
the sight which centuries have not seen is surely 
worth our hurrying to see. So we time all our 
movements now by those of the crowned heads, 
and search the French and English papers eagerly, 
hoping to find that Yictoria will delay for a week 
crossing the English Channel. She seems disposed 
to be provokingly punctual just now, and so we 
must take glances where we would fain look long, 
and make busy hours do the work of days. 

Not far from our hotel is the cathedral, whither, 
of course, our feet first wend their way. Most mar- 
vellous and fairy-like is its architecture, and elabo- 
rated to such a degree, that it has the effect, at 
first, of a small and delicate edifice seen through a 
powerful microscope, which brings out all the intri- 
cacies and ornamentation. When this first impres- 



MILAN CATHEDRAL. 213 

sion passes away, and you obtain a more correct 
idea of the great size of the building by walking 
through and around and above it, (for of course you 
go upon the roof,) you are bewildered by the innu- 
merable calls upon the eye to examine in detail, 
and let the general outline go again. Some ex- 
quisite cornice, some carved doorway with its deli- 
cate wreath-work, some odd caprice in a supporting 
bracket or pendent water-spout, demands your at- 
tention, and separates your thought from all the 
rest of the huge church. The grandeur of the 
effect is much lessened in this way ; and wonderful 
as the Milan Cathedral is, it does not, after all, im- 
press the imagination so profoundly as many smaller 
churches which are simpler in outline and less pro- 
fuse in ornamentation. Many of the six thousand 
statues which adorn the exterior, and fill niches and 
archways, and stand upon the dizzy pinnacles, and 
give to the church a museum-like effect, would be 
quite as appropriate in a hundred other places. 
Some of them are in themselves very admirable. 
That of Napoleon the Great, sculptured by Canova, 
from the purest Carrara marble, stands on one of 
the principal pinnacles, and holds in its hand the 
lightning-rod. The visitor is shown over the marble 
roof, as through a grand gallery, and it is only by 
walking over it that a fair idea of the immense area 
covered by the building can be attained. Here is a 



214 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

graceful statue, there a marble flower of colossal pro- 
portions, but finished workmanship; now we come 
upon a balustrade fretted into all sorts of convolu- 
tions, and now upon a series of grotesque monsters 
woven into various architectural uses, till the mar- 
ble seems to reveal all forms of vegetable and animal 
life, under some strange, unearthly spell. Bas-reliefs 
of exquisite finish are nearly out of sight over some 
obscure doorway, and many a space which from 
the street below seems but a smooth marble slab 
is found to be covered with traceries which are the 
labor of many days. The interior of the cathedral 
is imposing, from its vast extent and lofty height. 
We were there during the performance of high 
mass, and the whole space of those high arches 
and dim aisles resounded with the notes of the 
grand organ, flooding the solemn air with its bil- 
lowy sound. 

Beneath the church is the renowned shrine of 
San Carlos Borromeo, which holds in sacred dark- 
ness the bones of the patron saint, and the countless 
treasures which his faithful worshippers have accu- 
mulated on his tomb as the slow years go by. No 
description is able to give an adequate conception 
of the elaborate decoration of this little many-sided 
room, the sides of which are said to be of silver 
altogether, and are wrought in bas-relief represent- 
ing scenes in the life of San Carlos. The coffin 



MILAN CATHEDRAL. 215 

in which the remains of the saint repose is of rock- 
crystal, which reflects the light like diamonds, and 
is encased by a ponderous silver cover, which is 
lifted and replaced by machinery. This outer coffin 
is ornamented in the same way as the sides of the 
room. The saint, clad in costly vestments, lies in 
his lonely resting-place, and above his hands is sus- 
pended a large cross of emeralds and diamonds, 
which flash a living radiance from out their dreary 
prison-house, and shame the feebler lustre of the 
lamps which strive to light up their dark abode. 
The amount of wealth shut up here from the light 
of day is the accumulation of many years, and the 
offering of many wealthy, if not pious, hands. 
Princes have presented costly jewels, and pilgrims 
and dying sinners have purchased the prayers of 
the Church by quite substantial payments. The 
shrine is kept under strong lock and key, and 
covered from all chance of vulgar gaze, except up- 
on high festival days, when, from a railed aperture 
in the church above, the public are allowed to gaze 
down into its splendor. As a fee paid to the priest 
redeems the stranger from all imputation of vulgar 
curiosity, and makes even the possibility of heresy 
tolerable, we easily obtained entrance to the shrine, 
conducted by an attendant, who donned official robes 
for the occasion, and went through the showing of 
the relics with dignified gravity and politeness. 



216 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

From the cathedral we drove to the Church of 
Santa Maria delle Grazie, which is much defaced by 
time and war, and of which the dome is by Bra- 
manti, the architect of the great dome of St. Peter's. 
This church, however, obtains a visit chiefly because 
of its vicinity to the building in which is the great 
painting of Lionardo da Yinci, " The Last Supper." 
This picture occupies the end wall of a large hall, 
formerly the refectory of the Dominican Convent, 
to which it belonged. It is said that it was at one 
time used as a stable, and, though it has long been 
rescued from such desecration as that, it is a most 
forlorn and desolate-looking place still. But the 
thought soon wanders from all connection with the 
locality, lost in contemplation of the masterpiece 
upon its wall. This painting, at first glance, ap- 
pears hopelessly dilapidated ; but as you look long 
and well upon it, the injuries of time seem to dis- 
appear, and the picture to come forth anew, so mar- 
vellous is the power of those defaced outlines. The 
face of Christ, less injured than the rest, retains its 
heavenly beauty and godlike serenity ; and as you 
gaze upon the group, the figures become more dis- 
tinct, the colors glow afresh, and the whole picture 
asserts itself to the imagination, till we wonder how 
we ever dared to deem it a ruin. Certainly no 
other painting could ever so re-create itself to the 
beholder. 



MILAN. 217 

The Brera Gallery is filled with fine paintings, 
among which Raffaelle's " Marriage of the Virgin" 
stands pre-eminent. The names of some of the 
religious paintings one meets with are sometimes a 
little strange to the uneducated ear, and terms are 
used in description which appear reverential only 
to minds imbued with saint-worship. Upon the 
roof of the cathedral I was attracted by a beautiful 
bas-relief, and the guide, observing that I paused 
before it, remarked, " That is the Nativity of God." 
The phrase, thus nakedly put, seemed to make a 
sword-thrust through the kindly cobweb which met- 
aphysical theology has wrapped around the propo- 
sition it involves. 

From the roof of the cathedral a fine view of the 
city is obtained ; and from the spire — which rises 
high in air, and to the various divisions of which 
the weary climber mounts by many steps — the eye 
ranges over the wide plains of Lombardy, and de- 
lights in the peaceful prospect of fertile fields. The 
plains keep no record of the invading hosts that 
have so often overrun them, and forgivingly cover up 
the scars which many battles have made upon the 
soil. The Triumphal Arch erected by Napoleon, 
however, recalls the memory of other days, when 
far different sounds filled the air from that which 
now tells of the approach of the peaceful train of 
cars arriving from Como or from Venice. 
10 



218 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

On our return from Milan to Como, we passed 
over the same glowing fields of Lombard) 7 , now 
flushing beneath the full glory of a cloudless sum- 
mer afternoon. The vines were drunk with sun- 
shine, the mulberry-trees hushed their leaves to 
voluptuous repose, and the broad plains seemed to 
emit a quivering breath from their heated breast. 
We reached Como before sunset, and returned to our 
quarters at the Albergo only to rest for a moment ; 
for in spite of the warning of the landlord that 
the night-air upon the lake was very dangerous to 
strangers, we determined to spend a portion of the 
evening upon its waters. We selected a boat and 
two stout oarsmen, and were soon out in the lake, 
enjoying the intense beauty which was above us in 
the sunset sky, beneath us in the rippling waves, 
and around us upon those charming shores. We 
floated past the villas of Pasta and Taglioni, and I 
know not how many noble mansions ; and watched 
— what was far more interesting in our oj)inion, 
though by no means in that of our boatmen — the 
gathering gloom of twilight, the lighting up of stars, 
and, later still, the rising of the now waning moon. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Unhealthiness of the Climate of Italy in Midsummer. — Malaria and 
Cholera. — From Como to Laveno. — Monte Eosa in the Distance. — 
The Borromean Islands and Lago Maggiore. — Arrival at Baveno, and 
Comfortable Quarters there. — Diligence to Duomo d'Ossola. — Long 
Delay there. — Passage of the Simplon. — Varieties of Climate. — 
Night Travel in the Diligence. — Martigni. 

The climate of Italy in midsummer is always very 
trying to travellers ; but this season the danger was 
doubled by the unusual prevalence of cholera, so 
that even our flying trip to Milan, and rapid visit to 
Italy's laughing lakes, could not be undertaken 
without running serious risks. But to turn back 
upon the threshold would have been too much for 
human nature ; so we disregarded the warnings we 
received on all sides, and fortunately accomplished 
the excursion without any serious ill effects. We 
were obliged to give up Venice, however, the ac- 
counts from cholera there being altogether too pal- 
pable and alarming to admit of our increasing the 
chance of laying our bones upon a foreign soil. A. 
Scotch gentleman, who went no farther and stayed 
no longer than we, was taken very ill at Martigni, 
and, as the only chance of saving his life, was car- 



220 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

ried in a litter up into the mountains, away from 
the fatal miasma of the valley. 

The unhealthiness of this portion of the country 
is a serious drawback to the enjoyment of its redun- 
dant beauty at the very season when hill and vale 
are in the full splendor of field and forest, when 
vegetable life is in riotous enjoyment of the very 
air that kills the unwary traveller. Malaria lurks 
by the shores of the beautiful lakes, night-dews are 
poisonous beneath a moon that " queens it o'er the 
night," the miasma rises from all the low, close 
valleys, where no fresh, vital air finds entrance, and 
cholera steals through the crowded streets and dirty 
lanes of town and village. The limbs grow weary 
and the head grows faint, a deadly languor pros- 
trates all the energies, and the sooner one gets back 
to the bracing air of the mountains the better, — too 
soon he cannot go. In the Swiss valleys there is 
also much to dread, and even in the passage through 
them to the high lands many are subdued by the 
malaria which scourges the picturesque and attrac- 
tive country. 

"We left Como early in the morning of a lovely 
summer day, warm but not oppressive. Our seats 
were in the coupe of the diligence ; the passengers 
were few, the post-road smooth as a marble floor, 
the country like a dream of Paradise ; — so, leaning 
luxuriously back upon the cushioned seat, we gave 



FROM COMO TO LAGO MAGGIORE. 221 

ourselves up to indolent enjoyment of the pleas- 
ant influences around us. Monte Rosa, grand and 
beautiful in the distance, wore its whitest snow- 
mantle in the morning sun; sweet valleys opened 
on our right and on our left, with cosey villages of 
white houses staggering under the weight of their 
red-tiled roofs, and clustering around the tall cam- 
panile of the parish church. From amid the green 
foliage of the hills gleamed forth at intervals the 
white walls of a convent, or some j^retty villa, 
and we looked out from our shady nook in the 
coupe ', lazily but fully enjoying the varying beauty. 
At noon we reached Laveno, a sleepy little village, 
apparently in the midst of an unusually agreeable 
siesta. Here we left the diligence, and were obliged 
to wait more than an hour, since the authorities of 
the place considered it needful to examine our pass- 
ports with great care before allowing us to sail upon 
the beautiful lake. This important matter settled, 
we took a four-oared boat with a white awning, and 
were soon upon our way to Isola Madre. 

Floating over the silvery bosom of the Lago Mag- 
giore in the dreamy stillness of an August noon- 
day, — your boat the only moving object beneath 
the glowing sky, and every dip of the oar bringing 
you nearer to the Eden islands, — is an experience 
quite unique, and which takes you out of the re- 
gion of ordinary realities, and gives you a passing 

19* 



222 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

glimpse of that sweet fairy-land in which, as 
children, we all devoutly believe, but of which we 
seek in vain for the realization when we, like our 
adored heroes, go forth into the world " to seek 
fortune." A thought of this went through my mind 
as I sat in the little boat, and I speculated internally 
upon my chance of finding the great roc's egg on 
the island, or the winged horse in the court-yard of 
the palace. 

If in describing the lake and its wonderful little 
islands, as seen upon this voluptuous summer's 
day, I bring upon the reader's head an avalanche 
of superlatives, and transcend the limits of a quiet 
and prosaic description, it must be urged in excuse, 
that everything in this locality exists in the superla- 
tive degree, and disdains the restraint of any limi- 
tations whatever. The lavish luxuriance of nature 
and of art demands an equal luxuriance of speech, 
and simple epithets are too poor to express the re- 
dundant wealth of beauty. The mind is not lifted 
into the region of silent awe, but becomes loqua- 
cious through the multitude of prettinesses, and 
the charms of harmonious and picturesque envi- 
ronments. The midday sun poured down upon us 
all the fervor of his beams, but a sweet, fresh air 
gently rippled the burnished surface of the lake, 
and prevented the heat from being oppressive. The 
oarsmen rowed us lazily over the water, and, as we 



ISOLA MADRE. 223 

floated slowly on our way, the soft Italian words 
fell from the rowers' lips, as they discussed the ad- 
ditional price they should demand for rowing us 
across in the heat of the day. Terrestrial as their 
subject was, their words were as sweet, and their 
tones as musically modulated, as though their theme 
had been of heaven's joys. Their indolence was 
completely in consonance with the serene and quiet 
beauty of the scene ; any appearance of effort or of 
hurry would have marred the exquisite repose of the 
hour, and introduced a discordant element into the 
general harmony. We sat beneath our sheltering 
awning, therefore, little disposed for conversation, 
but occasionally giving utterance to some inter- 
jectional expression of admiration. At length we 
reached the landing-place at Isola Madre, and stood 
upon the marble steps, on which, of old, brave 
knights and fair ladies may have disembarked. Up 
the ancient palace-stairs we mounted, and entered 
at the open door, where no retainers save a for- 
lorn old cicerone awaited us. The palace is dilap- 
idated and uninteresting, but the gardens are full 
of flowers, and of huge trees which cast their em- 
bowering shade on those who walk beneath. Rare 
and beautiful blossoms are in rich profusion ; the 
air is heavy with their perfume. The cool shade 
wins us away from the flowers, and the flowers 
beguile us again into the sunshine, while the music 



22-1 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

of the rippling waves, and the soft murmur of the 
light breeze among the trees, fill the air with sooth- 
ing sound. 

But we could not delay at Isola Madre when Isola 
Bella was beckoning to us ; so we went again on 
board the boat, and soon found ourselves in a still 
fairer Eden than that we had just left, and amid a 
more lavish beauty, a more glorious luxuriance, — 
almost, it would seem, a more torrid clime. From 
the cedar of Lebanon to the pine of Norway, from 
the hardiest shrub that confronts unflinchingly the 
blasts of a northern winter, to the most fragile 
flower that blooms beneath the equator's heat, all 
are here, and all apparently are equally at home. 
The island is so small that every inch is in use ; and 
from the ten terraces, constructed, with great labor, 
of soil brought from a distance, spring up hedges of 
orange and lemon, clusters of laurustinus, and olean- 
ders twenty feet high, laden with odorous blossoms. 
Camellias of giant growth spread their shining leaves 
in the sunlight, pendent fuchsias hang like glitter- 
ing rubies among their shining leaves, and delicate 
heaths and gorgeous geraniums, and a thousand 
rare and beautiful flowers which are the cherished 
darlings of our hot-houses at home, enjoy the air of 
heaven and the breeze of evening with delight in 
this favored spot. Among the trees an enormous 
cork-tree rears its head, and shows its scarred and 



ISOLA BELLA. 225 

ugly trunk ; a camphor-tree thrives as in its native 
east ; a Magnolia grandiflora lifts its huge leaves as 
the air sweeps through its branches ; and oaks and 
maples mingle their foliage with myrtles and orange- 
trees. Even the stiff and awkward cactus of New 
Holland finds a place, and the prickly pear of Mexico 
protrudes its leaves like weapons of war among its 
more gentle neighbors. But the most famous tree 
on the island is the great laurel, whereon remains 
the scar caused, it is averred, by Napoleon's carving 
upon the bark the word " battaglia " a short time 
before the battle of Marengo. 

The palace is an immense pile, standing close 
upon the water's edge. It has a fine effect as a 
whole, though there is little that is elegant in the 
details of its architecture. The interior is very 
sumptuous, and is shown freely to all visitors. At 
the time we came, several members of the owner's 
family were residing in the palace ; yet we were 
allowed to see all except a few private rooms, 
which counted for almost nothing in the vast estab- 
lishment. The state apartments are rich in gild- 
ing and tapestry and marble ; hall succeeds hall, 
and gallery follows after gallery, each possessing 
treasures of historic interest or of artistic beauty. 
The rooms occupied by Napoleon, when he visited 
the then Count of Borromeo, arc shown, and remain, 
in furniture and adornment, as they were during 



226 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

his stay. The bed in which he slept stands there, 
gorgeous in crimson and gold. One of the most 
beautiful of the many works of art collected here 
is a centre-table of mosaic, presented by Leo XII. 
to the ancestor of the present Count. The design 
of the top is a large bouquet of beautiful flowers, 
so life-like that one involuntarily bends down to in- 
hale their perfume. It is a gem of art of enormous 
value, and was a fitting gift from a Supreme Pontiff 
to the man who could afford such an expensive play- 
ground as Isola Bella. The galleries and saloons 
contain many fine paintings and mosaics, and a 
large number of paintings on marble. There are 
several tables of verd-antique, and in one room a 
chimney-piece of the same costly material. There 
is also a basement suite of apartments of a most 
whimsical character, though quite in keeping with 
numerous other oddities which the island exhibits. 
They represent a grotto, and are all paved with 
stones and shells of different colors, arranged in 
patterns, which, by the stiffness of their designs, 
contrast queerly with the imitation of Nature in 
the main idea. Floors, walls, and heavily-arched 
ceilings are all encrusted with pebbles and shells, 
relieved occasionally by specimens of marble. In 
these rooms there are several fine statues : a sleep- 
ing Venus lies in one, a graceful Galatea adorns 
another, and a fair Flora is the presiding goddess of 



ISOLA BELLA. 227 

a third. The effect of these rooms upon the eye, es- 
pecially after wandering through the lofty and ele- 
gantly furnished apartments above, is peculiar rather 
than pretty ; but there are so many of them, and the 
design, such as it is, is so thoroughly carried out, 
that the whole is relieved from the paltriness it might 
otherwise possess. 

A great deal of wit has been exercised on Isola Bella 
by the travellers who have visited it, and certainly it 
can lay no claims to grandeur and sublimity ; but it 
is, for all its fancifulness, quite a charming little spot. 
People are very apt to attack the objects of their criti- 
cism from points of view from which they were never 
intended to be judged, and, because they are not stu- 
pendous or magnificent, deny them praise for their in- 
disputable prettiness. Isola Bella is a toy, but it is a 
pretty one, and quite fit for royal hands to play with, 
which is all it was ever intended to be. EmersrinQ; 
from the coolness of the grotto, you come again into 
the gardens, and mounting from one terrace to an- 
other over the time-worn marble steps, you reach the 
highest point, from which there is a charming view 
of the lake and its picturesque shores. The hills 
are rich in vineyards and in groves, villages dot the 
shore-line with their houses shining in the sun, con- 
vents and villas gleam here and there, and the lake 
lies at your feet smooth and glittering as a mirror. 
Around you are the immediate fascinations of the 



228 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

gardens and the palace, various enough to suit every 
taste. The air is heavy with perfumes, the parterres 
are gay with many-hued flowers, the sunshine glows 
and quivers, warming the blood of the most inactive 
temperament ; and if you weary of this warmth and 
brightness, the cool shade of the huge forest-trees 
invites you to repose, and the breeze which murmurs 
through their eloquent leaves woos you into slum- 
ber with whispered tales of their native land. The 
northern pine has a legend of ice and snow and 
wintry skies which its neighbor, the palm, refuses to 
believe, and which the aspen shivers even to think 
of. To dream away the noontide hours in the sweet 
shade, to listen to the little waves that come cooing 
and lisping up the shore, and when the fierce sun 
has softened his fervid beams, and grows gentler as 
he prepares to visit " the under world," to come 
out into the glory of a sunset, or to float in a tiny 
boat over the twilight waters, — all this is an ex- 
perience quite in unison with home ideas of Italy. 
The fires of the western sky faded into paler tints, 
the soft air of evening was still sweeter than that of 
the day, and by and by the moon stepped into the 
heavens to see if the world had really left all its 
prosaic realities for a little while. We crossed over 
the lake to Baveno, passing the third island of the 
lake, Isola del Pescatore, which seems set as a foil 
to the pretentious show of its two neighbors. 



BAVENO. 229 

The visit to Lago Maggiore takes the traveller a 
little off the main line of travel from Milan, and 
affords a pleasant contrast to the crowded convey- 
ances and noisy bustle we have been in of late. The 
main route to Switzerland is resumed by means of 
a little diligence from Baveno to Duomo d'Ossola, 
which passes over a country every step of which is 
worth seeing. 

At Baveno we found a quiet and most comfort- 
able inn, the neat chambers which were allotted to 
us forming quite a different picture from those in 
which we have recently disposed our weary limbs. 
Our little parlor looked over the lake, and, having 
appeased the pangs of hunger, which had become 
absolutely clamorous from our long fasting, we all 
repaired to the balcony, and spent the early hours 
of the night in blissful ease beneath a sky of Italy's 
softest blue, and amid scenery which hardly knows 
of rivalry. The dreams of art that have Avon our 
admiration in these busy days faded into transient 
oblivion before this beautiful nature ; but the im- 
ages of both mingled amiably in our visions when 
we at last sought our pillows. Human strength 
cannot be fed even with such beauty as this, but 
craves the grosser aliment of dinner and of sleep. 

A morning fair as those which broke in Paradise 
roused us from our dreams. The lake was glitter- 
ing anew in the morning sun ; the distant mountains 
20 



230 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

showed dimly blue against the horizon ; the waves 
plashed gently upon the sandy shore, repeating the 
same lullaby that had soothed us to our rest. But 
we were refreshed now, and ready for new efforts ; 
our eyes were once more glad to see, our ears to 
hear, and our limbs to move. The magic of that 
delicious slumber had been as a draught of pure 
elixir to our lips, and all weariness had fled away. 
We would have willingly spent a week in this 
quiet nook, and breathed for a while this air so 
soft and pure, so fragrant and so full of life. The 
inn stands close upon the shore of the lake, and 
one has but to step a little way from its piazza to 
the boats, which unobtrusively suggest the pleas- 
ure of a trip upon the water. At ten, how- 
ever, we bade adieu to Baveno, and looked our 
last upon Lago Maggiore, which smiled quite as 
sweetly when we turned away from it as when it 
seamed to offer us a welcome at our coming. It 
was careless of our homage, and remembered not 
our praise ; and thousands will follow us, who, like 
us, will tell unto the unheeding air, and to the un- 
sympathizing water, the admiration that the fair 
scene inspires As well expect the light mist-wreath 
which the south-wind blows across the sky to leave 
the imprint of an eternal shadow on the sunshine of 
the lake, as hope that your inspiration can leave a 
trace for other eyes to see. "We fancy sometimes 



LEAVING BAVENO. 231 

that the sympathy we find in certain aspects of 
nature with our own prevailing mood cannot be 
altogether accidental, and magnify our own inner 
thought till it seems to have impressed itself upon 
our external circumstances ; and sometimes the 
affirmation of the simple fact that we make the sym- 
pathy out of our own imagination, is strangely jar- 
ring to our feelings. It so often seems as if the 
sunshine were really brighter for our happiness, the 
rain more sad for our tears, the wailing of the wind 
more mournful for our woe ! And the fair places of 
the earth which awaken such emotions in us seem, 
in greeting us with sunshine, to have prepared them- 
selves for our coming, and to spread themselves 
consciously before our eyes. But after all our ap- 
preciation of the beauty of Lago Maggiore in the 
gorgeous glory of a summer noon, in the softened 
splendor of a sunset stillness, and in the pale serenity 
of moonlit peace, we were forced to acknowledge 
that only to our own hearts had our coming and our 
going been of any importance. Perhaps, to be sure, 
the landlord of the little inn may have experienced 
some sense of satisfaction in regarding the substan- 
tial coin which testified of our having passed, when 
our corporeal presence had faded from his sleepy 
sight ; but Mother Nature was indubitably obtuse 
to her children's worship, and the sun stared at us 
with more curiosity than sympathy. 



232 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

We drove, upon the top of the coach, to Duomo 
d'Ossola, where a vexatious delay of twelve hours 
is necessary in order to resume the main highway 
of travel from Milan. The country on the way is 
charming and diversified, and in spite of our con- 
viction of the indifference of Nature to us as in- 
dividuals, we enjoyed the delicious weather to the 
utmost, and drank in new life at every breath. "We 
found the hotel at Duomo d'Ossola very neat and 
comfortable, and after dinner we strolled about the 
quaint old streets of the little town, and amused 
ourselves with speculations upon its inhabitants, 
most of whom look as if they had been baked in 
the sun. Murray pronounces Duomo d'Ossola " a 
thoroughly Italian town ; " and though it is so 
near the frontier, it seems to have preserved all its 
idiosyncrasies from the contaminating touch of 
foreigners. We penetrated into several shops, and 
bargained with the queer-looking old beldames 
whose wares were spread out beneath the heavy 
arcades, where dirt and rags seem to wage even- 
handed battle with humanity, and where the arti- 
cles which find a market in the little town are 
assembled together in amusing confusion. 

Three o clock in the morning is not a favorite 
hour for rising, and, however conscientiously one 
may have slept from bedtime till that hour, one 
does not feel exhilarated by the process of dressing 



STARTING FOR THE SIMPLON. 233 

in the twilight of consciousness within, and of one 
small candle without. However, we made the best 
of it, and groped our way to the court-yard of the 
inn, which was busy in preparation, and noisy in 
confusion. The travellers from Milan looked even 
more sleepy than we, and in a few minutes the 
bustle and excitement waked us fairly into activity. 
Thanks to a judiciously-bestowed douceur, I found 
two seats reserved in the banquette, into which we 
mounted, much to the disgust of several inside pas- 
sengers, who had hoped, through promptness, to 
obtain these much-desired seats. Indeed, crossing 
the Alps in the interior of a diligence is almost as 
bad as not crossing at all ; and although, if the 
weather be not perfectly amiable, the coupe is the 
most comfortable seat, yet in fair weather the ban- 
quette bears the palm decidedly. In the first place, 
you are perched up in a most exciting manner, and 
your position induces you to feel a strong interest 
in the safety of the carriage, which, viewed from an 
altitude like yours, seems problematical, to say the 
the least. As soon as you are a little accustomed 
to the idea of falling over the precipices on one 
side, or of having them fall on you from the other, 
and have decided within yourself that the strings 
which fasten the baggage to the roof of the coach 
are stronger than they look, and will not, upon 
the first emergency, allow an avalanche of trunks 

20* 



234 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

and boxes to obliterate you from existence, you are 
able fully to appreciate the advantages of your posi- 
tion. The whole view is open to you : you can 
measure the precipice that yawns at your side, and 
peer over the side of the coach down into its fearful 
depths ; you can lift your eyes and see that the sky 
is actually higher than the cliffs which tower into 
the air before you ; and you can look back and esti- 
mate the perils through which you have passed, and 
learn to take those which are before you with equa- 
nimity. So we climb to our aerial height, and 
make ourselves comfortable in our snug quarters. 
Everything and everybody looks a little chilly in 
the early morning ; and some faces are cross, and 
some voices are very gruff, in spite of the bows and 
gesticulations of the waiters of the inn, who grow 
more and more heavenly-minded in their forgive- 
ness of injuries as the time for receiving their per- 
quisites draws near. 

The diligence creaks and groans in its efforts to 
get started, which are a little spasmodic, as the 
horses do not all take the idea at once. At length 
we emerge from the court-yard, to commence a jour- 
ney which, with its snow and ice, its wildness and 
sublimity, forms a striking contrast to yesterday's 
experience, when we revelled in the warmth of Isola 
Bella, and walked in the sweet gardens of that quiet 
isle. The dim twilight of the summer night melts 



CROSSING THE SIMPLON. 235 

away before the glimmering dawn, and that in its 
turn gives place to the full glory of the summer 
sunshine, which gilds the mountain-tops and illumi- 
nates the valleys. We cannot grumble at the loss 
of our morning slumber ; we even acknowledge 
gratitude to the arrangement which compelled us, 
in spite of ourselves, to look upon the Alps under 
so many varieties of light and shade. 

We look back, now and then, to see the cortege 
of which we form the head, and it is worthy a pro- 
longed gaze. Our clumsy diligence leads off, drawn 
by seven horses of every hue and condition, and is 
followed by four other vehicles, which baffle descrip- 
tion. Their venerable forms are heavy with long- 
accumulating mud and dust, their locomotive powers 
weary and impaired by age and honorable service, 
and their whole mechanism in a state which threat- 
ens a break-down at every step. The harnesses are 
an odd conglomerate of leather, metal, and bits of 
rope, and the steeds are apparently contemporaneous 
with both carriages and harness. The drivers wear 
a livery more gay than tidy, and most of them seem 
to have outgrown their garments. They sit with an 
air of great dignity upon the box, gathering the 
reins as proudly as though they were the gilde*d 
ribbons of my Lord Mayor's own state coach ; they 
execute with their long whips tremendous flour- 
ishes upon the scared air, of which, fortunately 



236 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

for the horses, the result is, as in many other cases 
of bluster, " mere sound and fury, signifying noth- 
ing." 

Very slowly and painfully the poor beasts toil up 
the height, the ascent being accomplished by a series 
of zigzags ; but we, who sit at our ease, are full of 
delight as every new step reveals to us fresh objects 
of admiration, or new groupings of those we have 
already seen. The great varieties of foliage and of 
vegetation attract our attention, and, turning to our 
guide-books, we read that the Alps are divided into 
seven regions ; — that the vine grows from the val- 
leys up to a height of one thousand seven hundred 
feet above the level of the sea ; the oak, two thou- 
sand eight hundred ; beech, four thousand ; firs, 
five thousand ; and pasturage is found one thousand 
feet above all these. Magnificent are these moun- 
tains, therefore, in their hospitality to man and 
beast ; they scorn to make superior greatness an 
excuse for laziness, and do their part towards the 
world's work with cheerful good-will. They make 
welcome the cattle who feed upon their sweet, fresh 
grass, they bid the little flower look forth over the 
dizzy height, and nod to its kindred down in the 
valley. This beautiful verdure is refreshment to 
the eye, which turns from the dazzling sunlight on 
the high mountain-peaks to find new strength in 
gazing on the soft, green pasture-grounds. Flowers 



THE SIMPLON PASS. 237 

of brilliant hue blossom on the very edge of the 
glaciers, and cheer the grayness of the mountain 
road. 

Among the fifty passes of the Alps, one hardly 
knows which to choose, each having different charms 
to offer, and each its army of admirers to expatiate 
upon its superiority over the rest. If the traveller 
has abundance of time, let him see all the princi- 
pal ones, of course ; for the more one sees of this 
sort of beauty, the richer one is forever. But if 
he is in a hurry, let him at least take the Simplon 
thoroughly, for here he will see the union of art in 
its highest perfection with nature in its wildest sub- 
limity. No one but the man to whom there was 
" no such word as impossible " could have planned 
and executed such a stupendous undertaking as the 
Simplon road. Even now, after so many years of 
new discoveries in mechanical forces, of seasons 
every one of which records some new victory of 
science over obstacles, it still inspires astonishment 
as well as admiration. Familiar as it is to most, the 
repetition of its story will never quite lose its fresh- 
ness, or cease to excite interest. Six hundred and 
eleven bridges span the torrents and leap the ravines, 
while the road is by turns a mere shelf upon the 
side of the mountain, or a strip rescued from the 
ravages of the swollen streams. The road is, in fact, 
only less colossal than the Alps themselves ; it winds 



238 HIGHWAYS OF TEAVEL. 

among the deep and narrow gorges which seem to 
shut the path before you with adamantine gates, or 
it clings to the precipice like a thing of life, folding 
about the mountain in its serpentine writhings, or 
rising and falling over hills and down into ravines. 
The fortifications of Nature have been stormed by 
Art, her strong-hold has been taken, and where the 
mountain torrent once found a rough, uncertain 
path, man has built up a safe and fair high- 
way for the nations. Thirty thousand men, who 
labored at once upon this road, must have looked 
like an army of ants upon these hills. The mind 
of the traveller is kept in a state of continued ten- 
sion ; precipices yawn beneath, and craggy moun- 
tains frown above, while ever and anon the narrow 
defiles through which we pass seem to close in 
upon us, and threaten to crush us in their dark 
embrace. 

For hours we ascend those dizzy heights ; now 
passing some beautiful cascade, that comes leaping 
and dancing over the rocks, as if hilariously con- 
temptuous of our snail-like motion ; now buried in 
some deep ravine, whose " walls of granite ' : ' re- 
echo our voices, and from which only a strip of sky 
above us may be seen, or entering the gloom of a 
covered gallery, where the wheels make thunderous 
sound beneath the low arches, and the faint trick- 
ling of water is heard at intervals, like distant bells 



THE SIMPLON PASS. 239 

upon the air, and tells of the torrent that is flowing 
over our heads. For a time we wind through a bleak 
defile, where half-detached masses of rock overhang 
our path. Our fancy can easily set them in motion ; 
but we soon emerge in safety, to look upon a green 
hill-side, whereon the peaceful chalet stands, quietly 
telling of the neighborhood of man. The cottages 
are often perched, like bird's-nests, upon the merest 
shelf of earth, which projects from the mountain at 
a seemingly inaccessible height ; the cows and sheep 
which make the owners' wealth graze peacefully 
and fearlessly upon the steep slopes, and crop the 
grass upon the edges of the slippery crags, while 
little children play before the doors, and the pres- 
ence of human and animal life gives a pleasant, 
homelike aspect to scenes which else were lonely 
and desolate. The tinkle of the bells upon the 
goats, the lowing of the herds, or the distant note 
of an Alpine horn, breaks in from time to time on 
the stillness. Sometimes a stalwart peasant may be 
seen wending his way in the valley, or crossing on 
the stepping-stones of some little brook ; or a group 
of men and women, toiling up the cliffs with im- 
mense baskets of new-mown hay upon their shoul- 
ders, the fragrant load towering high above their 
bent heads. The inhabitants of the country, so far 
as we can judge from the specimens we meet, are, 
like their own chalets, prettier at a distance than 



2-iO HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

on near inspection ; the women are said to be much 
superior in intelligence and appearance to the men, 
so that a proverb prevails among them to the effect 
that " the hen is the better bird, all over Switzer- 
land." 

We rest a little while at the different hospices 
which offer their humble hospitality to the travel- 
ler, and keep the relays of horses for the diligence. 
These clumsy and ponderous edifices, with their few 
small windows and massive roofs, prove, by the ugly 
solidity of their architecture, and the storm-battered 
aspect of their whole exterior, that all " the days 
of their pilgrimage " are not as propitious as that 
which smiles on us as we make their acquaintance. 
The enormous masses of ice and snow which flank 
the road in many jDlaces, and which never yield to 
the hottest summer sun, are confirmations of the 
same suggestion. We pay a willing tribute of ad- 
miration to the two Saint Bernard dogs that dwell 
in the hospice nearest the summit, and who walk 
out to give us greeting with eyes of benevolent 
sagacity. They are said, I know not how truly, to 
be the only full-blooded pair among the Alps at 
present. However that may be, they are noble ani- 
mals, and their faces wear an expression only a 
shade beneath the human. Soon after bidding them 
farewell, we reach the wooden cross which marks 
the summit, and tells us that we are six thousand 



CROSSING THE SIMPLON. 241 

five hundred feet above the sea. One long look at 
the utterly desolate scene which now surrounds us, 
and we commence the descent of the mountain. 

This is as rapid as the ascent was slow ; the 
wheels fly fast over the smooth, macadamized road ; 
the driver cracks his whip more defiantly than ever, 
as we whirl rapidly round the sharp angles of the zig- 
zags, close upon the crumbling edges of precipices 
that urgently invite us down into their tremendous 
depths. We look doubtingly at the reins of rope so 
carelessly lying in the driver's hand, and at the 
clumsy wooden shoe which acts as drag upon one 
wheel, and at the straggling, many-minded beasts, 
whose rapid motions are even more extraordinary 
than their slow ones were. But we are too much 
excited with the spirit of the day's journey to feel 
fear, and come to the philosophic conclusion that 
" it is the way they do things here." We, however, 
become sufficiently interested in the problem of our 
own descent to look back at one of the carriages 
which breaks down behind us only long enough to 
see that nobody in it is killed, and that, though 
the vehicle seems to be resolving itself into its 
original elements, the passengers can be squeezed 
into the other carriages. Our elevated seat gives 
us a fine opportunity for observing how short a step 
there often is between us and destruction, as the 
top-heavy diligence reels beneath the load of lug- 
21 p 



242 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

gage on the roof. The inside passengers arc bliss- 
fully ignorant of much of this excitement, or I am 
sure we should hear something from a fat old lady 
in the corner, who has previously made a great out- 
cry over some of the minor dangers of the ascent. 
Fortunately, she has a seat on the safe side of the 
road, and, seeing only the wall of mountain at her 
elbow, forgets all about the chances on the other 
side, and cannot, as I do, see down those fathomless 
ravines, or estimate with me the inches of earth 
which intervene between us and the edge over 
which fall the loose stones which we dislodge as we 
rattle along. Thus we go on, with the eternal snows 
around and above us, the verdant valleys far be- 
neath ; and our rapid course would be frightful, if 
it were not so fascinating. The passage is made in 
safety, day after day and season after season, so that 
the danger is much less than it seems to be ; but, 
after all, the possible contingencies are so many, 
and the protections against them so few and small, 
that one cannot feel quite sure but that this par- 
ticular day is the one on which the exceptional acci- 
dent shall prove the rule of general safety, and we 
be the small item of sufferers who shall count as 
but a percentage in the statistics which shall make 
those who come after us feel quite safe. A vicious 
or a frightened horse, a sleepy or a drunken driver, 
a break in the rude old harness, and the lumbering 



CROSSING THE SIMPLON. 243 

old diligence would go down into those dark gulfs, 
and crush to atoms its living load. Peril glides 
along by our side like a phantom figure, lending a 
strange charm to our sensations, sharpening all our 
perceptions, and tinging with wildness all the emo- 
tions which the sublimity and the beauty around us 
awaken. 

We pass through many different climates, too, in 
our journey this day ; the cloaks and wrappers, 
which are but troublesome lumber, and provoca- 
tive of some hard words from the gentlemen at 
starting, become wonderfully comfortable as we ap- 
proach the summit of the mountain, and even prove 
insufficient as we pass through a chilling mist, or 
feel the winds blow keen and cutting from the vast 
fields of snow. Little by little, as we descend, the 
air grows genial, and our envelopings fall off one by 
one, till, again in the valleys, we gasp in the sultry 
heat, and yearn for one more breath of that pure 
upper air. As night draws on, we take seats inside 
the carriage, to avoid as much as possible any ex- 
posure to the night air in the now deadly valley of 
the Rhone. On through the long evening hours we 
wend our now weary way, for we dare not linger 
even for rest in this pestilential air. The night is 
not dark, but a soft, gray, cloudy atmosphere covers 
everything, and invests all that we pass with a 
strange, weird-like aspect. We go through a village 



244 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

that a few days since experienced a severe shock 
from an earthquake, and the fallen walls and 
ruined houses seem quite in unison with the gen- 
eral gloom. 

Sleep is nearly impossible in the closely-packed 
diligence^ and after a few dislocating attempts we 
give it up, and resign ourselves to the joltings and 
jerkings which accompany our onward progress, 
and which bring us to our journey's end in very 
much the condition of mind and body which a 
boned turkey may be supposed to experience on 
beholding himself served up in his own jelly. At 
half past three, precisely twenty-four hours after 
starting, we tumble out of the diligence, and call 
upon " mine host " at Martigni for a bed. Having 
no words adequate to the expression of our ex- 
haustion, we keep a mournful silence till our de- 
mand for rooms is complied with, and as soon as 
possible are fast asleep. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Pass of the Tete Noire, and its Beautiful Scenery. — Approach to Mont 
Blanc. — Village of Chamouni. — Ascent of Montanvert. — View from 
La Flegere. — Drive to Sallenches, and Parting View of Mont Blanc. 
— Post-Koad to Geneva. — Beautiful Scenery. — Arrival at the Hotel 
de l'Ecu. 

We slept soundly till nine next morning, oblivious 
alike of clangers and of pleasures past and future. 
Having obtained breakfast, there was no longer any 
inducement to remain in the close and stifling atmos- 
phere, which, to those so recently breathing the 
upper air, suggests its baleful intent at every inspi- 
ration of it into the reluctant lungs. We therefore 
lingered only long enough to buy a few carvings, 
such as we could put in our travelling-bags, our 
heavier luggage having been sent on to Geneva by 
the main road, the pass of the Tete Noire, which 
we were to take, being impassable for carriages. 
We found some active little mules, and a couple of 
intelligent-looking young men as guides, and set 
forth. The clay was by turns misty and sunny; 
the foliage, dripping with moisture, shone brilliantly 
every time the sun came forth, and the air was soft 
with vapor for a while, and then all aglow with sun- 

21* 



246 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

beams. The scenery of this pass is renowned even 
here for its rich variety and beauty, and the effect 
of it is enhanced for ns by the temporary relief 
from all the usual responsibilities of travel in the 
way of luggage and of conveyance. We have but 
our sacs de nuit and our mules to attend to, and 
we are not obliged to arrive at a given spot at a 
given moment, the necessity of which almost always 
pursues a traveller's mind with a sense of obliga- 
tion, even when he is personally indifferent to the 
matter. 

We are very impatient to be at Chamouni, and to 
find ourselves fairly under " the shadow of Mont 
Blanc ; " but our longing wish for the crowning beau- 
ty of Switzerland is kept quiet to-day by exceeding 
enjoyment of the loveliness in our path. For the 
whole clay we wind through the tortuous bridle- 
path, which leads us among innumerable scenes of 
changeful beauty. We climb heights where even 
the mule can scarcely find a foothold ; we descend 
into ravines of frightful roughness and wild gloom ; 
we cross tiny bridges, which quiver over the fierce 
and noisy torrents that clamor scornfully at us ; we 
enter into the solemn silence of primeval woods, or 
wind along the brow of bare and threatening cliffs. 

At the summit^ of one -of the peaks to which we 
climbed we came upon a little " office " for the 
examination of passports. The spot appeared to 



THE TETE NOIRE. 247 

be the frontier between heaven and earth only, and 
the necessity of anything resembling a custom- 
house seemed quite superfluous in such a locality. 
A very jolly officer came forth from the cabin, wear- 
ing a uniform decidedly the worse for weather, and 
greeted us with a condescending smile, and a " Bon 
jour ! " adorned with many gestures. Inquiries were 
immediately made as to the necessity of getting our 
passports from their cases ; but they were met with a 
shrug of the shoulders, and a " no, gentlemen ! 
but if you will taste of my very fine Curacoa this 
morning." So we saved our passports and our sacs 
intact from his not over-clean fingers, by paying the 
expected fee as the price of a thimble-full of very 
poor liqueur. 

At the cascade of Barberini we found what was 
called an inn, and tried to eat what was called a 
dinner ; but both are forgotten and forgiven in virtue 
of the great feast which Nature offers to her worship- 
pers in this garden-spot. Material food and physi- 
cal rest are supernumerary objects here, where sight 
and hearing arc all the senses one cares to use. The 
silvery music of the waterfall, the glorious luxuri- 
ance of forests and of flowers, the blueness of the 
sky which arches in this temple of beauty, were 
enough to keep every murmur quiet. So, without 
attempting to get the outward man into any better 
trim, we spent a couple of hours in wandering about 



'248 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

upon our own feet, while the mules rested theirs, 
and at the end of that time set out again upon our 
journey, in order to reach Chamouni before dark. 
One thing we did find at the inn, however, which 
was good of its kind, and that was the collection of 
minerals from the mountains ; and we added largely 
to our stock, in spite of our contracted means for 
carrying them away. 

Approaching Mont Blanc from some directions, it 
may be seen at a great distance ; but here, in the 
heart of the hills, we shall be almost upon it before 
Ave can obtain a view of it. As the afternoon wears 
on, the clouds thicken, the rain falls at intervals, 
but fortunately not in large quantities, and the val- 
ley fills with mists. The near hills only are visible 
at sunset, and even their outline is not always dis- 
cernible. We look mournfully up, from time to time, 
and the guide, who has seen our enthusiasm, says, 
sorrowfully, " Alas ! Madame, there is no Mont 
Blanc for you to-day ; " when, lo ! the upper clouds 
alone are parted, leaving us in the valley still dull 
and dark ; and far, far above and before us stands 
the white dome of the " monarch of mountains," 
and sunset hues of rosy light illumine the summit, as 
it rises high above the clouds and mists of our lower 
world, serene and still, like a pure soul beneath the 
smile of God. For some minutes the beautiful scene 
remained, as we stood still in admiration ; and then 



CHAMOUNI. 249 

the last rays faded, and silence and darkness fell 
around us, as we entered the little town of Cha- 
mouni, weary and travel-worn, but filled with quiet 
thoughtfulness and reverent admiration. 

Chamouni has been recently desolated by a large 
fire, which, in addition to the smaller dwelling- 
houses of the inhabitants, has destroyed a portion 
of the hotel accommodations. Consequently the 
place is crammed to discomfort with the influx of 
visitors, and the landlords and landladies (the latter 
generally the important personages in these parts) 
are in a state of mind bordering on distraction. We 
dismounted at the " Hotel Royal de l'Union," — a 
title somewhat paradoxical to an American under- 
standing, but which proved, upon further acquaint- 
ance, to be right worthily bestowed, since the fare 
was royal in quantity and quality, and brought about 
at the dinner-hour an unbroken union of pursuit 
among a heterogeneous crowd of persons of all 
nations and all tongues. All minor differences were 
hushed before the universal sympathy of hunger ; 
for in the mountain air of Chamouni hunger is 
elevated into a very positive and respectable sensa- 
tion, and ceases to be an unfashionable emotion. 
Even the sublimity around is made to wait a little 
till the first faintness is appeased ; and I am sure 
that, if Mont Blanc had chosen to peep over my 
shoulder the first day after my arrival, he might 



250 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

have seen me looking into the depths of a vol-au- 
vent with an interest which rendered me oblivious 
that he was waiting outside with his sunset gar- 
ments on. 

We reached the hotel about eight o'clock, and, 
having done justice to our bountiful supper such 
as it needed the experience of our last week's 
meagre fare and hard travelling to explain and 
excuse, we began to examine into our chances of 
comfortable rooms in this Babeldom. We were at 
first disappointed at learning that rooms at the 
hotel were out of the question, but we could all be 
lodged a little way down the street. Upon going 
to the house, however, we found very neat rooms ; 
and, on opening the closed blinds of the windows, 
discovered that they looked out full upon Mont 
Blanc and the Needles, — a circumstance which 
made amends for all the inconvenience of lodging 
in one house and dining in another. 

The air among the Alps is so exhilarating, that a 
degree of physical exertion which would exhaust 
one anywhere else is borne here almost without the 
consciousness of fatigue. Invalids, who lounge out 
the day in an almost inert existence in other places, 
catch here the contagion of activity, and mount on 
mules, or stroll about on foot, quite like other peo- 
ple. At an early hour in the morning our party 
was again mounted for an expedition to Montanvert 



THE MONTANVERT. 251 

and the Mer clc Glace. The day was again gray and 
showery ; but as we were to turn our backs on Mont 
Blanc, and as distant views were not of importance 
in our present expedition, we were little dependent 
on the weather. We wound our way up the steep 
precipices of the Montanvert in high spirits. As 
we emerged from a patch of woods which had 
enclosed the path for a little way, we gained the 
high ground commanding a view of the Glacier du 
Bois, and heard, above the dashing of the Arveiron, 
a mighty sound as of the rushing whirlwind. Our 
guide called out, "An avalanche! an avalanche!'' 
and, as we looked where his finger pointed, we saw 
the mighty mass of snow and ice sliding, falling, 
and crashing along over the edge of the glacier, and 
strewing the valley below with its fragments. 

The ascent of the Montanvert is exceedingly 
steep and precipitous ; the winter torrents wear 
and tear away the little path, till it is often in a 
very dangerous condition. One must take it as one 
finds it, however ; for to build or to repair is almost 
out of the question. So the torrents have it all 
their own way, and the only comfort is, that, if they 
often spoil the old path, they sometimes wash out a 
new one ; — in fact, much of the way is only the 
deserted bed of the mountain streams. Sometimes 
a little strip of earth is rescued from the steep 
mountain-side, and, only two or three feet in width, 



252 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

forms the most comfortable, though by no means the 
safest, part of the road ; for the mules, as is well 
known, always go on the outer edge of the path, no 
matter how wide it may be, and they have a demo- 
niac kick in lifting up their hoofs, which sends the 
loose stones flying over the edge of the cliff, as if to 
show you how easy it would be to send you after 
the stones. But the danger is only apparent, and 
even the most timid learn entire confidence in the 
obstinate instinct of the animal, and admiration of 
the skill with which he surmounts the many ob- 
stacles in his way. 

By climbing Montanvert immediate access is ob- 
tained to the Mer de Glace, which fills the vast 
ravine at the side of the mountain, and separates it 
from the opposite Needles. From the cliffs which 
overhang it, one gazes far up and down over the 
billows of the frozen sea. After resting awhile at 
the inn on the little table-land at the summit, and 
glancing over the usual interminable array of agates, 
cornelians, and Swiss carvings which flood every 
stopping-place in this part of the world, whether in 
the valley or on the hill, we descended the cliff, and 
wandered over the rough bosom of the Mer de Glace. 
The vast extent of billows, frozen at the moment 
of their stormiest commotion, stretched around us ; 
the crevasses yawned at our feet, with the strange 
beauty of their blue-green depths, in which one 



MER DE GLACE. 258 

fancies strange - treasures must be hidden, and the 
motionless waves, arrested for a while, seemed only 
waiting for the word of command to resume their 
mighty movement, — to burst their icy bonds, and 
rush forth a grand, impetuous, resistless flood. 

Many visitors cross the Mer de Glace, and descend 
into the valley from Le Chapeau on the opposite 
shore. This involves a very hard walk across the 
sea, which at this, its narrowest part, is a mile wide, 
and a return to the valley on foot, which is not a 
very easy thing for the ladies of the party ; so we 
contented ourselves with a prolonged exploration of 
the magic ocean, and made no attempt to cross its 
sullen breast. In spite of the rain, which fell in 
smart showers, we lingered and lingered, loth to de- 
part. The monotony of coloring, increased by the 
chill grayness of the day, — the spell-bound silence 
to the ear of that which to the eye seems full of life 
and uproar, — exercised over us a strong fascina- 
nation. Montanvert rises more than six thousand 
feet above the sea ; yet when, upon its summit, we 
gaze upon the towering heights around us, we seem 
but to have climbed a little hillock. That loftiest 
peak, which looks down on Montanvert with such an 
air of conscious superiority, is the Aiguille Yert, — 
its sharp summit is still seven thousand feet above 
our heads. We could not climb its spire-like sides 
if we would ; and it seems to say as much, as wc 
22 



254 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

look up and admire its airy height and stately sub- 
limity. Somewhat cruel, after all, are those fierce- 
looking and jagged cliffs, disdainful of all but per- 
pendicular lines, and cutting into those soft, fleecy 
clouds with sharp, keen stroke, till the soft mists 
that would enrobe their naked heights move off to 
seek a milder greeting, and come rolling down the 
sides of the lower hills, to be kissed by the forests 
and welcomed by the streams. 

The snow-line of the Alps is between nine and ten 
thousand feet above the sea, which still leaves, among 
the giants of the chain, a noble margin for unstained 
snows, — where immeasurable treasure-houses for 
the rivers are hidden high up beyond man's profane 
touch. What then must the Himala} r an monsters 
be, that, ere they welcome the snow to a perpetual 
home, claim sixteen thousand feet of height ? 

After waiting till the last possible moment, we 
commenced the descent of the mountain. This per- 
formance, whether accomplished on your mule's 
back and with the assistance of his four legs, or at- 
tempted with the less elaborate machinery with 
which nature has endowed you individually, is, per- 
force, a very harum-scarum proceeding. Dignity of 
carriage is, in either case, quite out of the question. 
The most accomplished rider is jerked hither and 
thither in the saddle, as the mule steps down the 
steep, irregular rocks with his fore-feet, and drags 



DESCENT OF THE MOUNTAIN. 255 

his nmd ones after him with spasmodic violence ; 
the most graceful pedestrian, after a few unpre- 
meditated plunges, finishes with an indiscriminate 
rush, and a scramble among bushes and loose rocks, 
wide out of the course he had originally intended 
to pursue. If, as in our case, a heavy shower ac- 
company the performance, the general effect is 
much heightened by umbrellas and dripping gar- 
ments, as well as by the elevation of spirits which 
takes place in the mulish economy as external cir- 
cumstances become more and more adverse. The 
nearer the mule approaches to the bottom of the 
mountain, the more extraordinary and the more un- 
controllable are his gyrations ; and one would sup- 
pose that the supper which awaited him must be a 
banquet fit for the gods, to judge by his eagerness 
to arrive at it. We are weather-proof travellers by 
this time, and mind a shower no more than a zephyr ; 
or, if it produce any effect at all, it is only in the 
way of merriment. Wet and travel-stained we re- 
turned to our hotel ; but the villagers of Chamouni 
are too much accustomed to see excursionists return 
in every possible variety of dilapidation, to bestow 
more than a passing glance at cavalcades that in our 
own land would be followed by a score of " young 
Americas." 

Chamouni is a very gay little place during " the 
season." Every morning sees groups of people 



256 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

setting out upon excursions in all directions, in car- 
riages, on foot, or on mules ; — every evening sees 
them returning, with weary steps but cheerful coun- 
tenances, as if well pleased with the day's work ; 
and the queer toilets which fancy, convenience, or 
necessity suggests, add much to the picturesque ele- 
ment of the scene. Quaint old vehicles arrive and 
depart at all hours ; guides and couriers assail you 
at every turn ; Alpenstocks and chamois-horns are 
thrust at you whichever way you walk ; and, indoors 
and out of doors, a confused jargon of French, 
English, Italian, German, and patois innumerable, 
sounds in your ears. Few remain long enough for 
any special localizing of themselves, and those who 
meet at breakfast disperse so widely during the 
day that little consolidation takes place among the 
visitors ; — besides, nobody looks at people when 
Mont Blanc is in sight, the only distraction from 
the Alps themselves being that to which I have 
already referred, — dinner. One can hardly find a 
place where people, as such, are of less consequence 
to you than here. The individuals who are neces- 
sary are lost, as persons, in the offices they fill ; 
those who have no position in this way are mere 
phantoms, catching the eye at times, but " without 
form and void " to the inner sense. 

After our return from Montanvert the rain ceased, 
the clouds cleared away, and a glorious sunset 



THE ALPS. 257 

clothed the Alps in fresh robes of beauty. Long 
after the valley was shrouded in a soft twilight, the 
rosy hues lingered lovingly upon the snowy dome, to 
which all eyes turn with never-wearied admiration. 
Whether the tender rays of early morning tint the 
mountain- tops, or the full blaze of the meridian sun 
light up the crags, or the fading day lie gently on 
the summits, the beholder is ready to say, as each 
aspect succeeds another, " Ah ! this is the most 
beautiful ! " And when the mists gather from the 
valleys, and the clouds roll grandly on above your 
head, and the loud thunder roars among the hills, 
and flashes of lightning play over the upper heights 
and gleam among the dark masses of black clouds, — 
when the grandeur of serenity which delighted has 
given place to the magnificence of conflict which 
fascinates, — then are the Alps more than ever thrill- 
ing and overpowering. A storm among these giants 
is a thing to be remembered by all who have seen it. 
It is an " elemental war " indeed, — a strife 'twixt 
heaven and earth, in which the latter seems to play 
no trifling part. The thunder has a rival in the 
prolonged echoes from the walls of rock ; the sullen 
plashing of the falling rain is drowned in the rush- 
ing of the swollen streams ; and the lightning reveals 
an earth hardly less ghastly in its white light than 
the storm-driven clouds above it. 

AVc climbed to the summit of LaFlegere, which is 



258 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

an excursion of little difficulty compared with the 
greatness of the reward. From the level spot before 
the little chalet on the top may be seen the mag- 
nificent panorama of Mont Blanc and the Needles ; 
while the deep valley of Chamouni spreads out at 
our feet, and divides the range of hills of which La 
Flegere is one, from those which group around Mont 
Blanc. We went in excellent season, taking the 
freshness of the early morning, and catching the air 
pure from the newly-opened gates of Paradise. We 
thereby gained a view which did not wait for the 
lazier visitors who came after us. Not a cloud was 
in the sky ; a sunshine intensely vivid lighted up 
the snowy peaks, and glanced far down into the deep 
ravines, which mark the mountain-sides as if with 
Egyptian hieroglyphics. Almost too radiant for the 
eye to rest on, rose high in the pure air the unsul- 
lied, dome-like mass of " the monarch of mountains," 
— the pointed shafts of the Needles cut in sharp 
relief against the blue of heaven, like spires pointing 
to another world. Opposite us lay the Mer de Glace, 
its upheaved waves ever repeating the same contra- 
diction of stormiest commotion in stillest rest, and 
ending in the Glacier du Bois and the cascade of the 
Arveiron. Beneath us wound the beautiful valley 
with its farms and villages, and the Arve threading 
its way along in many a fantastic curve. It is at 
this season only a small stream, but the broad bed 



VIEW FROM LA FLEGERE. 259 

of blanched rocks and naked sand which borders its 
course tells of a fierce torrent when the snows are 
first let loose. The little village of Chamouni slum- 
bered peacefully in the sunshine, as if feeling itself 
secure in the embrace of its mighty friends, who 
seem to smile upon its rest with patronizing watch- 
fulness. The world does not possess many such 
panoramas as that it exhibits on La Flegere, nor 
does the wayward summer of the Alps give many 
such cloudless days as that on which we found our- 
selves before it. Even as we descended the moun- 
tain, within an hour's time from that cloudless azure 
which had canopied the view for us and crowned the 
hills with glory, the clouds gathered, the distant 
hills grew gray and presently vanished into obscu- 
rity, and as we reached the valley the big rain-drops 
began to fall, and the view from Flegere was over, 
for that day at least. 

One more glorious sunset from the capricious sky, 
one more serene and starlit night, one more brilliant 
dawn, and our stay at Chamouni was over. At 
seven in the morning we mounted into one of the 
comical old carriages, which we have decided to be 
indigenous to these regions. At first we fancied 
this must be the purgatory of carriages defunct in 
other places ; but the corporeal strength which sus- 
tains them through the hard usage they receive 
proves them to be still " in the body." Seven or 



260 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

eight vehicles accompanied us, forming a procession 
utterly unique. Some held two persons, others four, 
and others again an indiscriminate number, known 
only to the clerk at the diligence office. Although 
it was August bv the calendar, it was December by 
the thermometer, and we spent the half-hour be- 
fore leaving in front of a huge wood-fire, wrapped 
in cloaks and shawls, endeavoring to " accumulate 
caloric " sufficient to last us till we should reach a 
less elevated, and consequently less chilly region. 
The valley is three thousand feet above the sea, 
and the atmosphere, which even at mid-clay is cool 
and bracing, is in the early morning uncomfortably 
cold during the whole summer. What it must be 
during the winter, which commences in October 
and continues until May, with snow on the ground 
" varying in depth from three to thirteen feet," one 
would rather imagine than experience. 

The road to Sallenches is considered practicable 
for carriages, and so it is for the sinewy vehicles 
which go over it ; but, judging from the appearance 
of things upon it, one would say it must have been 
repaired by a recent avalanche. It seems to be 
merely the bed of some river, which has obligingly 
abandoned its course for the purpose of allowing peo- 
ple to go from Chamouni to Sallenches for a short 
time each season. A part of the way passengers 
are obliged to walk, the carriages proceeding empty 



KOAD TO GENEVA. 261 

over the huge rocks ; — at one point in the route, 
we walked nearly a mile through the magnificent 
woods. The unhappy vehicles tottered along behind 
us, groaning piteously while making their painful 
way over what bore the strongest resemblance to a 
broken-down staircase of stone, which seemed of an 
interminable length. The views along the road are 
picturesque in the highest degree ; the path winds 
along at the foot of the Brevent, crosses the Arve 
several times, shelters itself in the valley, or dives 
into the deep ravines, with such an infinite variety 
of scenery that the bad road is almost unheeded, 
and the forced slowness of progress is rejoiced at. 

At Sallenches the bad road ceases, the antedilu- 
vian vehicles are deserted, and the diligence swal- 
lows you up in its vast interieur, or perches you, 
if you are fortunate, like a bird upon its roof. 
Where the proportion of inside to outside passen- 
gers is as ten to one, the few on the outside have 
every reason to feel elated with their elevation. By 
great generalship we secured seats in this locality ; 
and in spite of a high wind, which harassed us 
most amusingly now and then, we kept our position 
the whole day. The passengers fairly packed, the 
luggage arranged, the last buckle to the harness 
adjusted, away rattles the diligence, and with much 
clatter we start upon the journey to Geneva. But 
a stop is made in a few minutes to allow the travel- 



262 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

lers to see one of the most admired of all the views 
of Mont Blanc. The point at which the carriage 
stops is on a bridge just out of the village, and the 
picture is one not easily forgotten. Some twelve 
miles behind you rises the mountain summit, so 
clear and sharp in outline, so massive and grand in 
proportion, so imminent in actuality, that it seems 
to be within a stone's throw. This is considered 
by many the noblest of the distant views of Mont 
Blanc, and is certainly a most imposing one. 

The smooth post-road seems like an old friend to 
us, as we roll rapidly over it. The whole drive is 
a succession of beautiful scenes, both of the Alps 
that we are leaving, and the Jura which we are ap- 
proaching ; and in our immediate vicinity follow 
picturesque little openings in the road on either 
hand, disclosing silvery cascades leaping down the 
mountain-sides, or beetling crags assuming every 
form of wildness, and at last, as we emerge on 
the more level ground, fertile fields and ripening 
vineyards. Within a few miles of Geneva we come 
upon something we have not seen since we left 
America, — an immense field of red clover in full 
blossom. It would have looked still more like home 
had a stone wall or a rough fence enclosed it ; but 
enclosures in Europe mean only parks or fortifica- 
tions, and so our humble friends the clover-blossoms 
nodded their heads within a foot or two of the 



ARRIVAL AT GENEVA. 263 

horses' hoofs, and cast their odor on the air as de- 
fiantly as if they felt themselves beyond the reach 
of harm, and were accustomed to stand their ground 
against anybody. At Chesne our passports were 
examined, but we were not obliged to leave the dili- 
gence, nor was the luggage overhauled. We were 
all pronounced en regie, and allowed to proceed 
without unnecessary detention. 

The blue of Lake Leman is in sight, the sunset 
flashes over the misty masses of the Jura, and 
silence settles down upon the earth, as we enter 
the dignified and somewhat prim city of Geneva. 
Complete satisfaction also settles down upon us, 
when we find that there is still room for us at 
the crowded Hotel de l'Ecu, at which we had been 
told to apply first for entrance, to which our heavy 
luggage had been forwarded, and which ranks first „ 
among the many fine hotels of the city. We were 
hardly aware of the restraint which limitation of 
wardrobe had imposed on us for a few days, until 
we felt the reactionary expansion consequent upon 
once more beholding our trunks, and inwardly re- 
solved never more to cavil at abundant luggage. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Geneva and its Lake. — Watches and Jewelry. — Crossing the Jura. — 
Return to Pai'is. — Reception of Queen Victoria. — Gay Doings of the 
Great World. — Imperial Equipages. — Balls at the Hotel cle Ville and 
Versailles. — Rush of Strangers in Paris. — Departure of the Queen. 
— Madame Ristori. 

In the matter of hotels Geneva deserves a pre- 
eminent reputation. In no city is the traveller 
more hospitably or more elegantly entertained. It 
possesses half a dozen first-class houses, all spacious, 
pleasantly situated, and kept upon a liberal scale. 
Our hotel stands upon the shore of Lake Leman, so 
that from our seats at table we look out upon its 
dancing waters, and the air that enters at the window 
is fresh from blowing over its blue expanse. The 
table dliote is the finest we have seen since we left 
Paris, and the attendance, both at table and in the 
apartments, is prompt and noiseless. The chambers 
invite slumber, the breakfasts invite an appetite, 
and the dinners are made still more attractive by 
delicious music stationed in the lofty hall which ad- 
joins the spacious dining-room. The hotel is full to 
overflowing, but the precision and order with which 



GENEVA. 265 

everything is arranged prevent anything like con- 
fusion. The contrast which our present delightful 
quarters afford to our recent poor accommodations 
comes vividly before us from time to time. The 
difference between attacking a meal from a knowl- 
edge of the necessity of getting nourishment in 
order to sustain impending fatigue, shutting one's 
eyes and one's nose and swallowing in haste to 
avoid realizing the taste t)f what is taken, and hav- 
ing all the senses pleasantly regaled, and the palate 
delicately ministered unto, is most grateful to us. 
Diet has a moral or an immoral effect upon most per- 
sons, and temper and health are both affected by the 
preparation and quality of food partaken of. With 
the exception of our stay at Chamouni, our discipline 
in this respect has been somewhat severe of late. 

One of the first visions which a foreigner conjures 
up at the name of Geneva is connected with its 
world-wide reputation in jewelry and watch-making. 
But the visitor soon finds that it has many other 
attractions and sources of interest. The scenery 
within and without the city, the near views of the 
lake, the distant ones of the Alps and the Jura, the 
drives in the environs, the fresh, pure, exhilarating- 
air, — all are full of pleasant suggestions, and, added 
to the charms of a very agreeable society, make of 
Geneva a delightful summer home. The city is 
divided into two portions by the " blue waters of 

23 



266 HIGHWAYS OP TKAVEL. 

the arrowy Rhone ; " and the bridges which serve 
to unite the shores are architecturally very pretty, 
and add largely to the picturesque effect of the 
place. The wonderfully rapid current of the river 
is indeed " arrowy," and flows through the lake 
without appearing to mingle with it. The bridges 
are favorite resorts for promenaders, and any lover 
of fine scenery may enjoy at his leisure the beauti- 
ful prospects they afford. 'Far off on one side the 
Jura chain rises five thousand feet in height, clothed 
in solemn pines as in a heavy robe of sombre green ; 
and on the other side of the horizon towers the 
dome of Mont Blanc, fifty miles distant, but which 
in clear weather may be seen reflected in snowy 
whiteness in the bosom of the lake. The broad 
valley which lies between these mountain chains 
spreads out its fair and fertile fields, and from the 
rough and ragged edges of the hills flow forth the 
forty streams which feed the lovely lake embosomed 
in beauty. The valley, though lowland plain to the 
mountains around it, is itself more than eleven 
hundred feet above the sea, and consequently is 
always swept by healthy and invigorating airs. The 
lake is lashed into fury by the wild winds which 
come down upon it, and the steamers which cross 
it are tossed about so on the mimic sea, that the 
equilibrium of many who have crossed the Atlantic 
with impunity is here seriously disturbed. 



GENEVA. 267 

The watches and musical boxes, the diamonds and 
mosaics, the works in gold and silver, and gems of 
all sorts, to be seen in Geneva, will repay for more 
than a passing glance. To such perfection is the 
manufacture of jewelry carried, that the taste finds 
a satisfaction in it akin to that felt in gazing on a 
picture or a statue. The triumph of art may be 
found in the delicate mechanism, the richly-chased 
mountings, the fairy-like adornments of the watches, 
and chains, and necklaces, that gleam in the win- 
dows, or conceal themselves in the cases of the man- 
ufacturers. The art of enamel-painting is carried 
to such perfection, and artists of such eminence are 
employed, that some of the watches adorned with it 
are more costly than if diamonds were employed in 
the ornamentation. The multitude and variety of 
these paintings render them almost wearisome, until 
one learns to ignore those which are merely ordinary, 
and to give to the best an appreciative admiration. 
Some idea of the importance of the watch-making 
trade to Geneva may be gained by a knowledge that 
more than a hundred thousand watches are annu- 
ally made in the city, while many more are sold 
there which have been made in the adjacent moun- 
tains of Neufchatel. The value of the jewelry ex- 
ported to England alone is about sixty thousand 
pounds per annum. That sent to Paris must be 
worth even more. Many of the watch-makers of 



268 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

Paris have the mechanism of their watches made 
at Geneva, and the setting and finishing done at 
Paris. They then receive the Parisian stamp, and 
pass for French watches. 

In order to return to Paris over the Jura, which 
route we had determined to take, we were obliged 
to start at half past six in the morning, and travel 
till the same hour in the evening. The road does 
not pass through any very large or important places, 
and the passage, being taken at Geneva, must be held 
to Dole ; for, once lost, it would be almost impossible 
to resume it, every successive trip of the diligence 
having its own complement of through travellers. 
The scenery is very fine, and tempts many lovers of 
beauty ; it also allows those in a hurry to get to 
Paris to strike the railway at Dole, and thus reach 
the capital with speed and ease. So in the fresh 
morning sunshine we went forth from our last cup 
of coffee at the Hotel de l'Ecu, where two days' 
sojourn and good cheer had rested and refreshed us. 
The diligence was full, but proved to be very com- 
fortable In all its appointments. We climbed the 
winding ascent of La Dole, and rested on the sum- 
mit to admire the magnificent view behind us. The 
full extent of the valley of the Ehone lay fair be- 
neath, spread like a map at our feet ; the lake 
reflected the glowing rays of the August sun ; the 
river wound like a band of silver among the fields 



RETURNING TO PARIS. 269 

of ripening grain. The distant Alps give grandenr 
to the scene, and stand like faithful sentinels guard- 
ing the valley ; Mont Blanc smiles farewell to us in 
the farthest distance, as the road winds round the 
height, and changes our point of view many times. 
Yast in its general effect, the prospect loses nothing 
by being studied in detail, and long examination 
reveals many new features in the scene. On either 
hand the harvests were ripening, and the people at 
work in the vineyards and the fields. 

In the morning we seated ourselves once more in 
the rail-cars, — a method of conveyance which at 
this time possesses the merit of comparative novelty, 
so long have we limited our notions of speed to 
the possible accomplishment of quadrupedal effort. 
Whirled along upon an express train, flying with 
bewildering speed past field and forest, past town 
and river, over and under and across all things, we 
felt that we were returning to the practical and the 
business-like. Farewell to the dreamy quiet of the 
lovely Swiss valleys, farewell to the towering Alpine 
summits that daily drew our thoughts heavenward, 
and farewell to the slowness of mind and body 
which characterizes the dwellers in regions where 
railways are not ! Back to busy, gay, fast Paris we 
hurry with lightning speed. Back to Paris, which 
shall be busier, gayer, and faster than ever ; for it 
is to be the theatre of a grand event. England's 

23* 



270 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

Queen will visit France's Emperor in his own home, 
and all Trance is interested that she shall have a 
right imperial welcome given to her. Hospitality 
shall grow into magnificent proportions when exer- 
cised between such potentates, and those who are 
on the spot shall see a pageant such as does not 
come on every fine day, even in Paris. All who 
come to see shall share in the ample welcome. 

We reached Paris at midnight on Friday, and 
went directly to our rooms, which were doubly wel- 
come after so much fatigue. How homelike every- 
thing seemed ! Our late wanderings have given to 
our return to Paris the aspect of a rest, though 
every day will doubtless be full of busy activity. 
The city is so crowded that new-comers find it 
almost impossible to obtain lodgings, and we hear 
some very ludicrous stories of the pressure of stran- 
gers and foreigners upon the inhabitants. Every- 
thing is, of course, at a high premium ; and some 
of the wide-awake Frenchmen and Frenchwomen 
will do a thriving business for a week. 

The morning broke fair and radiant, with promise 
from the skies of sympathy with the expectant earth. 
Royalty might feel sure that its plumes could spread 
themselves in the sun. All day the busy prepara- 
tions go on. The city is decorated in honor of 
the event with waving banners ; and on the Boule- 
vards, through which ,.the royal carriages are to 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE QUEEN. 271 

pass, are erected triumphal arches adorned with 
beautiful flowers, with velvet, and with gold, and 
wonderful mottoes in what is meant for English. 
From the balconies hang rich stuffs of brilliant 
colors, and from the roofs and windows wave silken 
banners, with the emblems of all nations embla- 
zoned thereon. The windows are filled with fair 
faces, that bend to look upon the crowds below. 
The whole city is in gala costume ; the sidewalks 
swarm with people of all nations ; flowers perfume 
the air, as the breeze sweeps over the triumphal 
arches ; and music from innumerable instruments 
swells and floats upon the summer wind. Two 
hundred thousand troops are under arms, and form 
a living pathway, through which the cortege is to 
pass over the six miles which intervene between 
the Strasburg station, at which the Queen enters 
the city, and the imperial palace of St. Cloud, where 
she is to spend the coming Sabbath. Perfect or- 
der, during all those many hours of weary waiting, 
rewards the efforts of the incomparable Parisian 
police, and all the thousands visible from our airy 
balcony on the Boulevard des Italiens remain pa- 
tient and good-natured to the last. 

With us patience was a lesser virtue, for we were 
comfortably seated in the shade, surrounded by 
pleasant people, nearly all Americans, and quite as 
agreeably situated as we could wish. But for those 



272 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

who passed so many hours standing in the street, 
it must have been tiresome enough. Not until dark- 
ness was closing around us did the long-expected 
cannon thunder forth their welcome sound ; and 
now all the spectators are on tiptoe, for the carriages 
will soon be in sight. The brilliant cavalry of the 
Guides, the Chasseurs, and the Cent Gardes escort 
the imperial carriages, which blaze with gold, and 
from which the almost indistinguishable occupants 
(for the twilight is now fairly upon us) bow, and 
are supposed to smile. White handkerchiefs wave 
from the balconies, hats are off in reverential ac- 
knowledgment, acclamations rend the air, the troops 
salute passing majesty with their ringing arms; — 
and soon the tramp of horses dies away, the vision 
fades, the pageant is over, and the hungry crowds 
turn their faces homeward to eat cold dinners, for 
the Queen has kept us waiting in a most uncon- 
scionable manner, and it is now eight o'clock. We 
are able, however, to say to those who ask us, that 
we have seen the Queen ; though it is question- 
able whether the opportunity allowed the acquisi- 
tion of any more valuable information than that the 
said Queen was a lady and wore a bonnet, — which 
some of us had suspected before. 

For eight days that brilliant pageant lasted, vary- 
ing in its details, but the same in lavish magnifi- 
cence. For eight days the silken banners floated 



THE queen's visit. 273 

on the air, and the eager crowd surged hither and 
thither in pursuit of the English Queen, and for 
eight days the cloudless Parisian sky shone fairer 
than anything it looked upon. Only once in all 
that time, and then only for a few hours late in the 
day, did the clouds lower and the rain fall, and the 
next morning the heavens were more brilliant than 
ever. All that wealth could procure, all that art 
could bring together or ingenuity devise, was con- 
centrated into one blaze of pomp and festivity. 
Even the Queen of Great Britain may have been 
astonished at the sumptuous preparations made for 
her, the many and magnificent palaces belonging to 
her "cousin" the Emperor, the variety of the enter- 
tainments which followed each other in splendid 
succession; — more than all may she have been sur- 
prised at the festive appearance of the earth and 
sky, continued longer than she had probably ever 
beheld it before. In fact, no greater contrast could 
be found than that of the sunny and riant atmos- 
phere of Paris with the chill grayness of an English 
sky. 

To the two millions of inhabitants forming the 
usual population of Paris was added, during this 
time, another million of strangers ; so that it was no 
wonder that houses and streets were alike filled with 
life. Immense sums of money were expended, and 
the shopkeepers reaped a rich harvest from foreign 



274 HIGHWAYS OF TEAVEL. 

purses, showing* themselves by no means inexpert 
at the operation. Indeed, many of the stratagems 
resorted to were characterized by a " cnteness " 
which most people consider the exclusive birthright 
of the " universal Yankee nation." 

One day, the Champ de Mars, alive with a hun- 
dred and thirty thousand troops, received the im- 
perial party, and a grand review of the troops 
revealed to Victoria the excellent discipline of the 
French soldiers. Another day the morning was 
consumed in a visit to the Exposition Universelle, 
when a path was cleared for royalty, among the 
herds of ordinary humanity, by the indefatigable 
efforts of the police. The party moved slowly 
through the vast area, the Queen bestowing cour- 
teous attention upon whatever was submitted to 
her notice, and occasionally casting gracious glances 
on the attendant throng. A magnificent ball was 
given at Versailles, and another at the Hotel de 
Ville, where the guests numbered ten thousand, 
and where all things were like a dream of fairy- 
land, — where innumerable lights, countless flow- 
ers sweet with all the odors of Araby, fair faces, 
brilliant uniforms, gauzy floating draperies, and 
gay music united in one brilliant whole. And so 
the gay doings went on through that merry week. 
Wherever the royal guests went, the beauty and 
fashion of England and France followed in serried 



THE QUEEN S VISIT. 275 

ranks about their sovereigns, a little farther off 
came the mass of strangers, and at a still more 
respectful distance, hanging about the doorways 
and loitering upon the sidewalks, were the lower 
classes of Parisians, who seem always at liberty to 
leave off work to look at a show. 

By no means the least brilliant part of the affair 
was the array of imperial carriages and horses, 
blazing with scarlet and green and gold, brilliant 
with plate-glass as the vehicles were, sleek, well- 
conditioned, and well-matched as the horses stood, 
waiting for their valuable burdens. The imperial 
livery of dark-green and gold was extremely hand- 
some, the servants were quite a fine-looking set of 
men, and a stranger's eye might question the proper 
position in which to place them, judging only from 
the physical advantages of the different members of 
the cortege. 

On Monday the Queen left Paris, and if the 
preparations for her reception had been brilliant, 
those for her exit were gorgeous beyond measure. 
It is said that even the days of Louis Quatorze never 
witnessed anything more splendid than the proces- 
sion which attended Victoria to the station. The 
National Guard and the troops of the line protected 
both sides of the way for the whole distance, the 
Queen and her suite sat in carriages which had 
been finished since her arrival in France, and the 



276 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

equipage of her departure outdid that of her coming 
in all the superior radiance of plate-glass, gilding, 
damask, and enamelled painting. The Queen's 
carriage was drawn by eight large bay horses, rich- 
ly caparisoned and stepping with conscious pride, 
each one led by a gilded rein held in the hand of a 
footman, who walked beside them in the Emperor's 
livery. The coachman on the box and the four 
footmen clustering behind were a mass of gold-lace 
shining in the sun. A guard of honor attended the 
august travellers ; among them the handsome uni- 
form of the Guides and their long array of brown 
horses were conspicuous. Behind the carriages 
came the Cent Gardes, — the body-guard of Louis 
Napoleon, — a newly established corps, mounted on 
black horses, and wearing an odd-looking uniform 
of light purple and white, with steel cuirass and 
helmet. The music of the bands and the acclama- 
tions of the crowd made the air ring with sounds of 
joy, and the sun winked and blinked at the whole 
thing till he put the people almost out of counte- 
nance with his vivacious cheeriness. 

With the last peal of music on the air ended 
the visit of the Queen of England to Louis Napo- 
leon, and people turned away to moralize upon its 
meaning and possible consequences. To the san- 
guine it promises fair things for the future, to the 
grumblers it is but a fine pretence, and to the non- 



MADAME RISTORI. 277 

committal style of wise men it brings occasion for 
a more than usually sagacious silence. Regarding 
it as a pageant, it has been without a flaw, and as 
a pageant we content ourselves with commenting 
upon it. If there ever is another like it, " may we 
be there to see." 

Madame Ristori is playing at the Theatre Italien. 
She is indisputably a very admirable actress, won- 
derfully effective in some of her efforts ; but I do 
not see how any one can regard her as a dangerous 
rival for Rachel. The proverbial fickleness of the 
Parisians, coming upon a moment of disgust at their 
old idol, can alone explain the extravagant present 
popularity of Ristori. Everybody, in criticising her, 
sets out from the Rachel standard, and the strength 
of prejudice or prepossession intensifies the decision, 
by adding an element of pique or of antagonism. 
The Parisians, like the ancient Athenians, are al- 
ways on the rush after some " new thing." 

Several more visits to the Louvre only incite to 
fresh enjoyment of its treasures, and increase the 
desire to dive deeper and deeper into them. The 
same experiment in regard to the Exposition is 
attended with a similar result. To exhaust either 
would be impossible, and, though quite unlike in 
other respects, they produce a like impression of 
exhaustlessness. 

One visit does for the " Chateau des Fleurs," or 

24 



278 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

the "Jardin Mabille," as you please. Each is like 
the other, and both are (fortunately) unlike any- 
thing else. From them one learns the fact that 
there are persons that never weary of dancing and 
eating and frolicking. Such an " institution " is 
impossible out of Paris; and even here it is con- 
ducted with great outward decorum, as a general 
thing. The fine music, the sweet flowers, and the 
soft night air redeem the place to some extent from 
its baser reputation. These two gardens are open 
on alternate nights during the week ; on Sunday 
night they are both crowded. Verily the Parisians 
care little which way they go, or where they are 
likely to bring up, so that they may sing and dance 
and be amused on the road thither ! 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Last Days in Paris. — Sevres Porcelain. — Establishment of Monsieur 
Alphonse Giroux. — La Petite Trianon. — Universality of the Attrac- 
tions which Paris presents to Strangers. — From Paris to London. — 
Custom-house Detentions. — Crossing the Channel. — A Night's Sleep 
at Folkestone. — Journey up to London. 

As the time of our sojourn in Paris draws to a 
conclusion, new objects of interest start up to claim 
attention, necessitating a degree of physical exertion, 
and entailing an amount of fatigue, quite incom- 
prehensible to any one who has never " travelled 
for pleasure " in solemn earnest, and almost incredi- 
ble to those who have gone through it, when it is 
reviewed after a slight interval. Of course we ate, 
drank, and slept a little during our whole journey ; 
yet where and when the time and opportunity for 
these operations occurred was forever after matter 
only for the wildest speculation. 

We went, one warm and serene day, — the sum- 
mer days here seem to be less oppressive and debili- 
tating than at home, — to the imperial manufactory 
at Sevres. The display of porcelain is very beauti- 
ful, — the beauty of design and delicacy of execution 
quite marvellous. There are dainty cups and sail- 



280 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

cers, fragile as a rose-leaf, painted with flowers so 
delicately tinted that it seems as if a rude breath 
would wither them; there are plates on which lie 
pictured fruits that shame the ripest grapes and 
peaches, and tantalizingly urge you to put them 
to your lips ; and there are vases glowing with 
landscapes and portraits and wreaths of flowers 
and enamelled scroll-work and arabesques and 
mouldings beyond number and description. Knowl- 
edge of the frail material in which so much labor 
and so much beauty are enshrined inspires a sort 
of tender feeling of protection in regard to them. 
They seem so helpless against violence, that one in- 
voluntarily moves gently among them, lest some in- 
advertent gesture may ruin forever the delicate work. 
The ware-rooms contain many articles for sale, but 
the price at which they are marked is sufficient in- 
dication that purchasers are not much wished for. 
The smaller articles, especially, were priced in such 
a way, that the larger and most elegant really seemed 
cheaper in proportion to their merit, though, under 
other circumstances, five thousand dollars would 
seem quite enough for a small centre-table, or one 
thousand for a tete-a-tete tea-set. Above the ware- 
rooms are many chambers filled with specimens of 
the pottery of all times and of all nations ; an odd 
but quite interesting collection, — interesting partly 
from its very incongruity. There are specimens of 



VARIETY-STORE OF ALPHONSE GIROUX. 281 

Sevres ware from the commencement of the manu- 
facture, and these are the most beautiful of all ; there 
are also beautiful articles of Dresden china, rough 
earthen ware from South America, brown pottery 
from Egypt, coarse jars from Spain large enough to 
contain barrels full of wine, and there are Bohemian 
glass vases fit for nothing but a fine lady's tears. 

Another place well worth visiting in Paris is the 
variety-store — if we may profane a temple of art 
with such a name, simply because the articles in it 
are for sale — of Alphonse Giroux. The collection 
of bronzes includes innumerable beautiful objects, 
from the tasteful little vase of an inch or two in 
height to statuettes full of power. The prices 
range from fifteen francs to five thousand. Buhl- 
work cabinets and desks and tables fill another 
division, interspersed with show-cases of smaller but 
quite as expensive prettinesses, taking every form. 
In one room there are paintings of merit on the 
walls, and portfolios strewn around, filled with en- 
gravings and water-color drawings by many artists. 
You may purchase a painting by De la Roche large 
enough for your parlor for two or three thousand 
dollars, or content yourself with a pretty aquarelle 
for your portfolio at the more moderate outlay of a 
hundred. The room set apart for toys would make 
a child's heaven. It contains every conceivable 
invention in its line, and includes the simple imple- 

24 * 



282 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

ments by which infantine fingers are taught to do 
mischief, and the elegant complexities through 
which children of larger growth glide from child- 
hood into science. The gentlemen and ladies in 
attendance (we use the words advisedly) manifest 
a degree of courtesy to visitors which is extreme 
even for Paris. 

A farewell visit to Versailles, taken upon a quiet 
day, when there were few visitors, proved very satis- 
factory. We spent some time among the portraits, 
among which one of Louise de la Valliere and 
another of Madame de Pompadour interested me 
much ; — the first, a fair, delicate blonde, with a sweet 
and amiable expression ; the second, a full-length 
picture of a sprightly, piquant face, full of mischief 
and coquetry, and a figure of graceful proportions, 
the attitude allowing the display of the little hand 
of which its owner was so proud. Among the end- 
less list of portraits of kings and queens, and brave 
men and lovely women of the past, there stared out 
at us, apparently not quite used to their present 
neighborhood, the familiar faces of Daniel Webster, 
Andrew Jackson, and James K. Polk. 

Crossing the green and shaded park, which is 
fresh as new-mown fields far away in country places, 
we come to the palaces of the Great and Little 
Trianon. The latter is the more interesting m itself, 
and the more closely connected with historical events. 



THE LITTLE TRIANON. 283 

Much less ponderous in its magnificence and less 
interminable in its apartments than its neighbor of 
Versailles, it is still ample enough and sumptuous 
enough for an imperial abode. Some of the rooms, 
small as they are in comparison, are filled with gems 
of art that make them miracles of costliness. The 
bronzes are of the finest in the world ; the Sevres 
ware is the most delicate that even Sevres can pro- 
duce ; the pictures are chefs-cVoeuvre; the portraits 
are just those that hold one longest and fascinate 
one most, by the faces themselves or by the reminis- 
cences they involve. The palace was a favorite 
residence of Napoleon, and many tokens of his pres- 
ence and indications of his tastes are shown. In 
one room are several articles in malachite, of im- 
mense size and costliness, which were presented to 
Napoleon by his friend Alexander of Russia. Many 
of the chambers have been rendered still more famous 
by the great people that have slept in them, and 
through the whole palace there breathes an air of 
personality and humanity quite unusual in these 
mausoleums of confused memories. 

Turning from the attractions within doors, the eye 
is feasted with the delicious gardens, on which the 
windows open, and in which flowers of every hue lie 
basking in the sunshine, and form a paradise of sweets. 
Memories of the hapless Marie Antoinette come thick 
and fast upon the mind, when standing on the very 



284 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

spot where so many of her not over numerous days 
of happiness were passed ; and we can almost fancy 
that the air still holds the echo of her voice, the gar- 
den the imprint of her footstep. In the grounds near 
the palace are the Swiss chalets, which were built to 
allow her and her court to indulge in a dream of 
rurality. The dairies and the farm-houses in which 
they played their pastoral insipidities still stand in 
mute waiting for the absent ones ; they form a most 
touching monument in their very simplicity and ap- 
parent unconsciousness of the tragedies they suggest. 
They are kept in neatness and order, but there is a 
painful sense of desertion about them, and the Lai- 
terie where the Queen's fair hands played dairy-maid 
is like a tomb, with its white marble milk-stands, on 
which her cipher is deeply graA^ed. One is glad to 
remember that the tragedy as well as the comedy is 
over, and that the little lake is not more peaceful 
than the repose of those whose laugh upon its waters 
was followed by such bitter tears. 

Then come the last shopping expeditions, the last 
promenades on the gay Boulevards, the last look at 
the gray old Tuileries and the glittering Palais Eoy- 
al, the last drive up the grand avenue of the Champs 
Elysees, and the last look at the leaping fountains 
and the tall obelisk of the Place de la Concorde. 
We hate to leave the city in which we now feel so 
thoroughly at home, for there is no other city, prob- 



ATTRACTIONS OF PARIS. 285 

ably, where this home feeling is of such rapid growth 
for the stranger. New fascinations spring up for us 
every day, and every day teaches us better and better 
how to obtain the most from what is around us. There 
is, in spite of all the grave objections which may be 
urged against the moral influence of a city like Paris, 
a strange and almost irresistible fascination in the 
gay and cheerful aspect of all its externals. Not as 
a home for the heart does Paris hold out the hand 
of welcome ; not to the sorrowing does she offer re- 
pose and consolation ; not to the struggling does she 
speak of aspiration. But when the heart is light 
and the pulse throbs firmly, when the health that 
bounds in the veins is equalled by that which keeps 
the mind in tone, — in a word, when the world goes 
well with you, and a season of allowed recreation is 
at hand, — go to Paris. The pure air shall fill your 
lungs with oxygen as clear as that amid the hills of 
your native land; the sunshine shall cheer you like 
the smile on a dear friend's face, and your eyes 
shall be feasted with all that nature can display or 
art create. The most fastidious and the most ver- 
satile taste shall find here the food it loves the best. 
The artist shall revel in the galleries of the Louvre, 
the Luxembourg, and Versailles ; though he have not 
a penny in his pocket, he may have golden hours with 
the Madonnas of Murillo, and wander at his case 
through the landscapes of Claude, or rest in the 



286 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

shadows of Salvator, or dream visions of spiritual 
beauty inspired by the pencil of Raffaelle. The ar- 
chitect shall find, at every turn, some magnificent 
specimen of the art he loves, from the solemn towers 
of Notre Dame, and the rich tracery of St. Eustache, 
to the just finished front of the Bibliotheque Irnpe- 
riale and the restored beauty of the Tour de St. 
Jacques. Standing before the glorious Madeleine, 
he shall own that Greek art has found here a fitting 
type for modern eyes to gaze at ; and as he turns his 
steps to the unequalled Place de la Concorde, the 
Egyptian obelisk shall tell him stories of the vanished 
glory of ancient Thebes. 

Does the visitor in Paris prefer the intellectual con- 
verse of books to the magpie chattering about him ? 
Libraries without limit open their wealth to him 
freely ; he may search the archives of the past, or 
amuse himself in the abundance of the present. 
Does the perfume of fresh flowers, or the waving of 
green trees, seem better worth than the hurrying 
multitudes ? The gardens of the Tuileries and of 
the Luxembourg stand like oases in the midst of 
the crowded city, ready for his pleasure ; or he may 
go to the Bois de Boulogne and lose himself from 
human sight in its green depths ; or he may com- 
bine opposite influences, and have the trees and the 
turf of the Champs Elyse'es, and still see crowds of 
people rushing hither and thither among the trees 



ATTKACTIONS OF PARIS. 287 

and flowers. If his tastes are horticultural, or if 
he hanker after natural history, let him go to the 
Jardin des Plantes, where the hippopotamus will be 
happy to make his acquaintance, and the giraffe will 
nod to him from his aerial height. A thoughtful 
mood may take him to P£re la Chaise, a tuneful one 
to the Italian Opera, a lavish one to the Boulevards, 
and a hungry one to the Palais Royal. It is his 
own fault if he be not suited somewhere and some- 
how, for even restlessness and uncertainty of aim 
are ministered unto by rambling among the busy 
streets. It is impossible to describe the variety of 
attractions which Paris presents, — each new-comer 
finds ample room and ample welcome. The wise 
liberality of the government places its treasures 
freely before the public, and maintains an aspect of 
especial hospitality towards the stranger. In any 
case a trifling douceur to the keeper is the only fee, 
and in most instances even this is forbidden. You 
may enter the churches every morning for curiosity, 
when others go for devotion ; the Louvre stands open 
for you six days out of seven, — closed, not, as the 
uninitiated might suppose, on Sunday as a clay of 
rest, but on Monday as a day of cleaning ; and 
the palaces, with all their splendor of adornment, 
all their halo of historic interest, open their wide 
gates to the most republican intruder. Nowhere 
does the stranger, as such, receive such royal wcl- 



288 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

come as at Paris ; nowhere else is there so much 
attainable without effort and without expense. One 
cannot walk the streets without constantly learning 
something before unknown, and new ideas spring 
up and develop themselves without the conscious- 
ness of study. Leaving out of the question the 
deep moral significance of much that even a care- 
less eye must see, much that a kindly heart must 
grieve over, there results from a brief sojourn in 
Paris a great increase of intellectual activity, a 
great accession of practically valuable ideas. There 
is an exhilaration in all external influences, an ac- 
tivity almost joyous in the general tone of things 
and people, utterly opposed to any indolent supine- 
ness, and overcoming all laziness by the contagion 
of its presence. Too long continued, this might 
injure by preventing contemplation and self-study, 
and by substituting one impression for another with- 
out allowing the first to mature ; but as an episode 
in a commonly thoughtful existence, it is of actual 
service. Pleasant recollections of all sorts cluster 
around our short Paris residence ; the five weeks 
spent there seem like a highly-colored picture 
viewed under a strong light, in which are seen a 
sky of brilliant blue, a sun of unclouded splendor, 
an atmosphere of wonderful purity, above ; and an 
unceasing tide of gayly-dressed men and women, 
of carriages and horses, of cavalry and infantry, of 



FROM PARIS TO LONDON. 289 

show and pageant, below. Fountains playing, music 
sounding, horses prancing, diamonds flashing, and 
faces smiling, are the accompaniments of a walk 
through the streets. Out of the kaleidoscope of 
brilliant impressions a thousand combinations arise 
in the memory ; but none of them are easily tamed 
into the mathematical precision of words, and it 
seems hopeless to endeavor to paint for others a 
picture which is yet forever so brilliant to our- 
selves. 

The transition from Paris to London affords one 
of the most striking of the many contrasts which 
twenty-four hours in a European traveller's expe- 
rience gives him. Having just emerged from the 
glow and sunshine of the first city, we will now see 
how the latter appears to one who looks at both in 
the same way, — that is, entirely from the outside. 
To those who, from circumstances of business or of 
previous acquaintance, are able to dive deeper into 
the humanity which belongs to cities, and to correct 
first false impressions or falsify first true ones, (for 
such a thing may be,) the accidents of external 
beauty or cheeriness of aspect may take a secondary 
place to the warm personal and social impressions 
received through contact with the inhabitants. But 
a stranger, who remains willingly a mere spectator 
of externals, and who spends a few weeks exploring 
a city, much as he may see that is worth seeing, 

25 s 



290 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

and sharply as he may examine what he does see, 
must remain in a position similar to that of one who 
stands gazing at a mansion with the owners of which 
he has neither time nor opportunity to become ac- 
quainted. It is amusing to note the audacity, how- 
ever, with which some travellers rush into discus- 
sions concerning the social manners and customs of 
places, and how minutely they are able to describe 
the home-life in a city where they spent perhaps 
a busy month, hurrying hither and thither among 
churches and picture-galleries. Thorough knowl- 
edge of national habits and national character can 
of course be attained only by a long residence ; 
but in the absence of any such experience, the 
cursory view from the outside commends itself 
more than the half-way acquaintance can do ; the 
clear and defined outline of the picture formed in 
the mind has all the force of a spirited etching, 
where every line tells. 

But as the fairy carpet, which used to waft people 
gently through the air and set them down without 
fatigue wheresoever they would rest, has never been 
found adapted to any but an Oriental region, it will 
easily be imagined that we did not fall asleep in 
Paris to wake up immediately after in London. On 
the contrary, the getting thither was most indispu- 
tably " an experience." The journey is said by the 
railway programme to be made in " twelve hours, 



FROM PARIS TO LONDON. 291 

via Boulogne and Folkestone ; " but the traveller 
who is beguiled by such an announcement finds it, 
upon trial, only one more of those pleasant little 
fictions with which the travelling public are contin- 
ually entertained. If delay were the only incon- 
venience attending the operation, one might put up 
with the addition of a few hours to its length ; but 
when the arrangements for crossing the Channel 
come under consideration, the good-nature of an 
individual is sadly put to the test. The steamers 
are too small to accommodate more than half the 
passengers they often carry, — the reason given for 
their small size being the difficulty in approaching 
the landing-places ; they are utterly unfurnished 
with protection against the frequently heavy sea 
which sweeps over the deck, and they apparently 
ignore the possibility of sea-sickness on the part of 
the unfortunate passengers. The large number of 
English people recently attracted to the French 
capital by the Queen's visit there, crowded all the 
conveyances between the two countries to an un- 
usual degree for some time, so that, when we made 
the trip, matters were of course in an aggravated 
condition of discomfort; but even this allowance 
was quite insufficient to redeem the arrangements 
from the most hearty condemnation. 

We left Paris at nine on Monday morning, and 
after a most wearisome ride of some six hours, 



292 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

through an entirely uninteresting country, we came 
in sight of the long, low sand-plains near the coast, 
and were soon after landed in the custom-house 
at Boulogne. Then came the endless and pointless 
annoyances of the passports ; and baggage-tickets 
became mysterious title-deeds, and transfers and 
permits grew into matters of state importance ; and 
a general condition of bewilderment and vexation 
pervaded the crowd. I sat for more than a hour 
on my own hat-box, fortunate beyond my neigh- 
bors in having one strong enough to bear my weight, 
seats being a luxury unknown in the bare and des- 
olate government building. In the mean time the 
people were almost righting for precedence with the 
officials, omnibus-loads were setting off from time 
to time, thus reducing the numbers of the bellige- 
rents, and all was hubbub and confusion. These 
preliminaries for our leaving the country without 
danger to the persons or the purses of the Emperor 
or the Queen being adjusted, we also took seats 
in the friendly omnibus, and drove to the haven 
of our present desires, the quay, where the homely 
proverb of our childhood came back to us with a 
force to which the most fastidious refinement must 
have surrendered, — we had indeed " jumped out of 
the frying-pan into the fire." On our way, however, 
we got a view of part of the town, and of the mili- 
tary works of the first Napoleon. The quay was more 



RUSH OF DEPARTURE. 293 

crowded than the omnibus, the steamer more crowd- 
ed than the quay ; but we pushed our way among 
noisy porters, dirty sailors, agitated travellers, and 
frightened women and children. Puzzled French- 
men were shouting and gesticulating at English 
officials, and equally puzzled and equally unintelligi- 
ble Englishmen returning the compliment to French 
employes. Load after load of passengers was poured 
from the carriages into the little steamer, and when 
she threatened to tip over with her uneasy freight 
of human beings, the huge baggage-wagons arrived, 
as if in the wake of an army. The baggage was 
slid over a sort of sluiceway, leading apparently into 
the very bowels of the vessel ; and it was quite pain- 
ful to see the dangerous celerity with which a lady's 
hat-box would slide down the steep descent, closely 
pursued, with demolishing intent, by three or four 
huge trunks, — the panting hare pursued by the 
furious hounds. The heterogeneous collection was 
rapidly disposed of in the vessel's maw, and in fact 
underwent during the voyage a process very like 
digestion. The passengers uttered helpless excla- 
mations of dismay as they caught sight of favorite 
articles of their own mingling and crushing in the 
melee. 

But concern for one's luggage is soon superseded 
by more immediate and urgent concern for one's self. 
The confusion of trunks and boxes, the plunging 

25* 



294 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

hither and thither of valises and carpet-bags in 
their time of trial, is as nothing to the pell-mell 
scrambling of men and women when the English 
Channel is really in earnest. Almost always rough 
and disagreeable, it seems determined to make np 
for the shortness of the time it has you in its power 
by the variety and intensity of the torments it in- 
flicts upon you. Apparently aware that our party 
had cheated it out of one passage by going direct 
from our own country to France, it made Jonahs 
of our innocent selves, and heightened its usual 
surliness of demeanor into absolute unbearable- 
ness. An unusually crowded steamer, an unusually 
high wind blowing right in our teeth, and conse- 
quently an unusually heavy sea, produced a state 
of things not conducive to serene contemplation 
or poetical dreaming. Discomfort and sea-sick- 
ness reigned paramount, and minutes seemed hours. 
Every few moments an impertinent wave struck 
the vessel in the face, scattered large quantities 
of spray over the deck, and drenched everybody 
upon it. It came in so much faster than it could 
run off, that there was an inch or two of water 
standing upon the deck, forming a general foot- 
bath, and, wherever any special obstacle intervened, 
deepening into pretty little ponds, in one or two of 
which I saw men sitting, so utterly sea-sick and 
miserable as to be quite indifferent to the matter. 



CROSSING THE CHANNEL. 295 

The cabins were so small and so close that not more 
than a dozen or two of the passengers could remain 
in them, — one set of first-class and another of second- 
class, for, as Mrs. Nickleby has it, " we must be gen- 
teel or die." This I learned from rumors around 
me, having no wish personally to investigate their 
horrors. There are circumstances in which an oc- 
casional baptism of salt water is better than physical 
shelter at the price of mental disgust. The sounds 
that came from the miserable victims, and which 
occasionally overpowered the rushing of the winds 
and waves, told the story with sufficient clearness 
for any listener with tolerably quick imaginative 
power. 

On deck the crowd was also great. Change of 
place was nearly impossible ; the sea spent its mal- 
ice upon us ; umbrellas were absurdly insufficient, 
" impermeables " were no better than gossamers, 
india-rubber coats served only as conductors to con- 
vey the water more carefully to unprotected regions. 
Such a forlorn, pitiable, wretched crowd I never saw 
before. Not being overcome myself by the demon 
of sea-sickness, I was able to look about, from un- 
der my umbrella, at the unfortunate groups around 
me. The fair faces, of late so smiling beneath 
jaunty hats and flying ribbons, were now expressive 
of a physical distress that defied conventional re- 
straints ; and the hats and the ribbons shared in the 



296 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

general dismay, and grew crestfallen and discouraged 
under repeated doses of salt water. The bows and 
smiles of the gentlemen were exchanged for rueful 
glances and elongated countenances ; and sights 
and sounds which it is not pleasant to remember, 
or well to describe, made the three hours of the 
passage the most disagreeable which occurred dur- 
ing four months of travelling. 

When we reached the English coast, we were so 
thoroughly subdued in spirits, and so completely 
soaked in body, that the idea of going to London 
that night, as most of the passengers did, seemed 
to us quite beyond human strength. Talk of the 
French invading England ! Why, the poor sea- 
sick invaders could be annihilated without effort in 
the first hour after their landing ! We meekly sub- 
mitted to be snubbed by the custom-house officers, 
who demanded the gentlemen's knapsacks, — I 
presume my excessive humiliation saved mine, as 
it was permitted to pass, — and delivered our keys 
to the first commissioner who asked for them. Re- 
ceiving from him a direction to a hotel, we left the 
English Channel with a faint exultation, and were 
soon in comfortable rooms, drying our garments 
and recovering our equanimity. Travellers soon 
learn to go through the latter process without loss 
of time, and become proficients in the art of " let- 
ting bygones be bygones." 



CUSTOM-HOUSE AT FOLKESTONE. 297 

We did not repent our determination to remain 
at Folkestone, for from our comfortable room we 
could see the performances at the station, and listen 
to the protracted groans of the impatient locomo- 
tive. The spirit of delay was still in force, however, 
and the train, instead of reaching London at nine 
o'clock, as per contract it was bound to do, did 
not leave Folkestone till that hour, and the pas- 
sengers must have arrived at the metropolis in some 
of " the wee sma' hours." A great part of this 
detention was owing to the examination of luggage 
at the custom-house. We had looked forward with 
great dread to this examination, having been enter- 
tained many times with tales of the strictness and 
rudeness with which it would be conducted, and of 
the opportunity it afforded for personal annoyance. 
We had been told that we might be subjected to 
personal search, — that our trunks would be turned 
topsy-turvy, and all extra or new articles would be 
likely to get taxed. We had sent a portion of our 
luggage from Paris direct to Liverpool, marked 
for the steamer we were to return in, — a method 
which saves a traveller all trouble, and exempts his 
matters from custom-house interference ; but we 
I had enough still with us to give the courtesy of the 
revenue-officers ample trial. We were most agree- 
ably surprised to find that we were not obliged to 
attend to the examination at all ; that no questions 



298 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

were asked us as we passed along ; and that, in an 
hour or two after our own arrival at the hotel, 
our trunks followed us, apparently unopened. The 
keys and a polite message from the commissioner 
soon appeared, and all of my own sex will sympa- 
thize in the feeling of satisfaction I experienced on 
finding my fresh Paris hat unprofaned by the rude 
touch of masculine fingers. This topic of custom- 
regulations is an unfailing source of conversation 
among pleasure-travellers, who are, as a class, es- 
pecially averse to having their purchases in one 
country disturbed in another, and who resent as 
a personal insult any assertion that such matters 
are " dutiable articles." We grew incredulous after 
experience had proved to us that there was little 
practical difficulty in the matter ; but were always 
told, when we ventured to defend the reputation of 
one place, that when we came to another we should 
find it very different. We were, however, never an- 
noyed seriously, and met with courteous treatment 
from all the officials that we came in contact with. 
To be sure, the etiquette of the thing is altogether 
burdensome and absurd, and the passport system on 
the Continent is a piece of bother, and sometimes of 
expense ; but it might be made so much worse by 
rudeness, that we were glad to take it easily when 
it came in a mild form. 

A cup of hot tea, followed by a long and sound 



ENGLISH LANDSCAPE. 299 

slumber, restored us to a salubrious condition, and 
we set out for London by the light of a brilliant 
sunshine. The country through which we passed 
was extremely pretty. The hop-vines, of which we 
saw large tracts, are much more graceful and 
delicate in effect than the vineyards on the Rhine. 
After the wild and picturesque scenery of Switzer- 
land, English landscapes look very tame, and are 
much more suggestive of good soil and abundant 
crops than adapted to awaken enthusiastic emo- 
tions and sublime thoughts. Sloping undulations 
take the place of beetling crags, peaceful rivulets 
of rushing torrents, comfortable farm-houses of ro- 
mantic ruins. It is said to be unwise in travellers 
who wish to appreciate the beauty of England to 
visit the Continent first ; for the infinite variety of 
scene, the grandeur and picturesque beauty of Con- 
tinental mountains and lakes and rivers, unfit the 
mind for the enjoyment of the quieter elements of 
English scenery, and dwarf its features out of their 
positive comeliness into comparative insignificance. 
Our visit was too hurried, and extended over too 
small a portion of the country, for us to venture 
upon any but a very limited judgment on the sub- 
ject. What we did see, however, in going through 
the island, from the southern shore to Edinburgh, 
did not impress us as we expected, or as it probably 
would have done had we been fresh from our own 



300 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

newer and rougher country. After the luxuriant 
glory of the plains of Lombardy, and the laughing 
fields of Southern France, the more simply utili- 
tarian aspect of the English farm-lands seems pro- 
saic and tame. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Arrival at London. — Vast Extent of the City. — Coldness of the Weath- 
er. — Westminster Abbey. — St. Paul's and the Strand. — Bank of 
England. — Tower of London. — Albert Smith's "Ascent of Mont 
Blanc." — Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean in Henry the Eighth. — London 
Docks. — Thames Tunnel. — Zoological Gardens. — Queen's Mews. — 
Hyde Park. — British Museum. — Madame Tussaud's Wax- Work 
Exhibition. 

From the terminus of the railway to our rooms 
at the West End, it is some four or five miles ; so 
that our very first introduction to the city was cal- 
culated to impress us with a sense of its vast size. 
This sense never left me in London, and produced 
a feeling of dreariness and helplessness, a weighing 
down of loneliness in my individual self, a painful 
and intrusive conviction of the smallness and ap- 
parent worthlessness of any unit among so many 
millions, which lay like an incubus upon my con- 
sciousness. It tinged all my impressions as they 
arose, and grew into prominence with each day of 
our stay. Street after street winds its interminable 
length, its beginning and its end alike remote; — 
in each the same human stream flows along, and the 
same sounds of business or of pleasure are to be 

26 



302 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

heard. Everywhere the buildings are smoky and 
defaced ; and from the gray, damp sky above, and 
the gray, damp stones below seem to exude the 
same chill moisture, and the same thought of gloom. 
We are at the antipodes of our two-days-since ex- 
perience. Everything is unlike the gay and bril- 
liant metropolis in which so lately we walked 
about, amused and interested spectators of a thou- 
sand sights, and felt the sweet influences of sun- 
shine and beauty warm our hearts. Though it is 
the first week in September, the weather is very 
cold and wet, and we meet people wrapped in cloaks, 
and even in furs. Out of season as this dreary 
wintry weather seemed to us, we were repeatedly 
congratulated upon having " such fine weather for 
seeing London ; " so I suppose we did the climate 
no injustice by judging it from the specimen it 
presented to us. I asked the servant at our lodg- 
ings if it was not early in the season to sit by a fire. 
His reply was, " Why, no, ma'am ; it 's September." 
Anything short of a positive storm passes, it seems, 
for very good weather ; and one soon ceases to won- 
der at the extraordinary construction of the articles 
called English walking-shoes, when a fair oppor- 
tunity occurs for investigating an English pave- 
ment in bad weather. Certainly London, on a wet 
day, is the dirtiest, dreariest, and most disagreea- 
ble of places. 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 303 

So many historical associations crowd upon the 
mind, and the past challenges the present with so 
much force in this wonderful city, that it is diffi- 
cult to decide in which way to direct our first 
steps. Fortunately, whichever direction is decided 
on, much is encountered which books have made 
familiar to the stranger. The very names of the 
streets and squares are those we have read of all 
our lives ; and we know the relation they bear to 
each other so well, that it seems as if we could find 
our way unassisted to any place. The more we 
wander, however, the more difficult do we find it 
to keep the large strings from tangling with lesser 
ones, and after a little while the whole becomes 
a labyrinth, requiring long familiarity to under- 
stand. 

Our first expedition was a long visit to West- 
minster Abbey. The exterior of this noble edi- 
fice challenges admiration at once ; and the som- 
bre coloring which the smoke and dampness of 
London give to its walls is, in this instance, an 
improvement. The weather-stains of London usu- 
ally fall upon the buildings with such a patchy 
effect as to sharpen rather than mellow the out- 
lines, and they look dirty rather than venerable. 
The black dust accumulates upon cornices and 
projections of all sorts, just as ordinary dust ac- 
cumulates in an unused room, and an impression 



304 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

of untidiness on a very large scale is produced. 
The interior of the Abbey is cheerless and lonely, 
rather than solemn ; and the dreary impression is 
heightened by the absence of kneeling worshippers 
and priests going about, — elements of life which 
impart to the Continental cathedrals a human and 
genial effect. The London weather seems to have 
installed itself in perpetuity within these time-hon- 
ored walls, and the massive building to be a shelter 
for the cold and damp, instead of one against it. 
Sunshine cannot penetrate that gloom, or smile 
upon the marble monuments that tell of vanished 
glories and of long-dead heroes. The chapels arc 
full of interest, and Henry the Seventh's is even 
more exquisite than words describe it ; but every- 
thing in this locality is so well known, that it 
would be obtrusive to enter on any description. 

One day we attacked and conquered St. Paul's, 
and the Royal Exchange, and the Bank of Eng- 
land, and ended with skirmishing in the Strand 
generally. This was a great expedition, starting 
from our quarters in St. George's Square, Hanover 
Street ; and a drive down Regent or Oxford Street, 
in order to arrive at the first grand point, is full of 
an interest of its own. Well wrapped up in our 
thickest garments, and fortified with india-rubbers 
and an umbrella, we sally forth on daily excursions, 
and come home chilled and hungry, but not alto- 



ST. PAUL'S. 305 

gether without satisfaction. Battling with a severe 
influenza formed quite an important part of my 
own employment, and introduced a strong person- 
ality into all my London sight-seeing. 

St. Paul's is immense and ponderous; — indeed, 
it overwhelms with its leviathan proportions, so that 
for a long while no other idea but that of size 
enters the brain. Turning to the guide-book for 
a start at the details of the matter, we find that 
" St. Paul's was forty years in building, and cost 
a million and a half sterling ; that its length is 
five hundred and ten feet, breadth two hundred 
and eighty-two, height of cupola four hundred and 
four." Thus strengthened by figures, and posted 
in premises, we can proceed boldly. Viewed in its 
separate parts, St. Paul's presents much to admire. 
The porticos are very handsome, the dome is grand 
and elegant in proportions, the height of the edifice 
is imposing in the extreme ; yet, as a church, it 
failed to produce on my mind half the admiration 
or pleasure that many less pretentious buildings 
have excited. Gothic architecture is so much more 
graceful than any other in its combinations, so 
much more expressive of the emotions appropri- 
ate to temples dedicated to worship, and, with all 
the opportunity afforded for profuse decoration, so 
much simpler in the original idea, that a church 
like St. Paul's appears incongruous and confused 

£6* T 



306 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

after the harmonious loveliness of St. Ouen, or the 
solemn glory of Strasburg Minster. 

The Bank of England covers eight acres of ground, 
and therefore may be regarded as a tolerably sub- 
stantial institution. The interior presents an end- 
less succession of offices and galleries and receiv- 
ing-rooms and disbursing-rooms and cabinets and 
vaults. All are exquisitely neat, and most of them 
occupied by grave-looking clerks or busy servitors. 
There was an air of solemn courtesy about every- 
body we met in our wanderings, which was very 
edifying. It was impossible to tell whether we were 
doing anything extraordinary in putting our heads 
in at the different doorways ; nobody seemed aston- 
ished at our doing so, and nobody volunteered any 
information, or seemed at leisure to give us guid- 
ance ; so we went on till we got tired, and then 
went out. The outside resembles a citadel, and 
looks as if Mammon had strengthened his own 
treasure-house, so that there should be no chance 
for the people to meddle with his hoards. 

The Royal Exchange is a much more dignified- 
looking affair during business hours than its vocifer- 
ous relative, the Bourse, at Paris. It is a handsome 
building, with a very imposing front. The General 
Post-Office is an enormous pile, of a style of archi- 
tecture very appropriate to its uses. It is spacious 
and admirably arranged. This portion of London 



THE TOWER. 307 

has attractions at every turn, and the localities are 
so associated with interesting episodes in history, 
and it is so easy to reproduce the past when treading 
the ground on which they were enacted, that min- 
utes lengthen into hours of wandering through 
these ancient streets and time-honored thorough- 
fares. 

The Tower of London is, as it were, the key-note 
to a stranger's impression of the old parts of the city, 
and is connected with all that recurs to the mind in 
English history. Its appearance is quite in keep- 
ing with the melancholy tone of its associations. 
Sombre and heavy, gloomy and vast, it stands sur- 
rounded by its stout stone walls, a fitting memorial 
of old tyranny, a tangible assertion of the motto, 
" Might makes right.'' We have not been long in 
England before we discover that a different order 
of things prevails here for sight-seers from that in 
France. Fees, and those not small ones, are the 
only "open sesame" to anything. One of the 
scarlet-coated wardens of the Tower attached him- 
self to me during all our perambulations about the 
place, though there were a dozen or more of visitors 
under his charge. Honesty obliges me to confess, 
that it was because our party looked, more than any 
other present, as if a fee might be forthcoming, 
rather than from any individual attraction. Well- 
timed directions for seeing what was to be seen, a 



308 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

pretence of showing us a few rooms " not generally 
shown to visitors," &c, &c, established his claim to 
a fee ; which he took with as much composure as if 
a strict prohibition of his doing so had not been, 
at that very moment, staring him and us in the face, 
in the largest of type, from the wall close by. We 
were told that money was expected at all the show- 
places, and that the government servants were al- 
ways disappointed, and often uncivil, if visitors took 
in good faith the notices which forbid them to give 
fees to attendants. Probably they regard that style 
of printing as dead-letter. We sometimes paid a 
douceur to such very respectable-looking men, that 
on the first occasion I was fain to turn away my 
head when the critical moment came, so as not to 
see the indignant blush which I felt sure would rise. 
A sly peep, however, soon convinced me that my 
consideration was misplaced, and I did not repeat 
my magnanimity, but, on the contrary, watched 
the details of the phenomenon with complete non- 
chalance. Most of the better class of servitors in 
the show-places resemble grave clergymen acting a 
silent rebuke upon the chattering spectators about 
them. 

The collection of armor in the Tower is extremely 
interesting, that in the Horse Armory especially. 
But every part of the establishment has an air of 
romance about it : each cell has been made interest- 



THE TOWER. 309 

ing by the misfortunes of those who have dwelt in 
it, and every window speaks of the sad eyes which 
have looked out from it. The crown jewels are 
guarded with as much care as any other state-pris- 
oners ; among them stands pre-eminent the Koh- 
i-noor, which fails — "Mountain of Light" though 
it be — to illuminate the cheerless apartment. 
The Regalia cannot be approached near enough 
to afford much satisfaction ; all the treasures of 
crowns and sceptres and bracelets are enclosed 
with a high iron railing, which says, in the plain- 
est Saxon, " We know that nine tenths of our vis- 
itors would steal us if they could, so we put our- 
selves out of harm's way." We visited, of course, 
the cell occupied by Sir Thomas More, looked out 
at the Traitor's Gate, went up to the rooms where 
Lady Jane Grey was confined, and walked slowly 
across the court-yard, which has so often been wet 
with England's best blood. 

The season being over, there is, of course, " no- 
body in town," which probably accounts for the 
scarcity of first-class amusements in the evening. 
The most thoroughly peculiar entertainment which 
the city ever affords is, however, fortunately for 
us, in full force. This is Albert Smith's " Ascent 
of Mont Blanc," at which we spent an evening in 
laughing till the tears ran down our cheeks. It is 
certainly the happiest mixture of amusement and 



310 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

instruction, the most successful attempt at being 
irresistibly funny and at the same time conveying 
a great amount of information, that has ever been 
made. Mr. Smith's wit lighted up every sentence 
that fell from his lips, and the little "Egyptian 
Hall" was filled with a closely-packed audience. 
On another evening we went to see Mr. and Mrs. 
Charles Kean at the Royal Princesses' Theatre, 
where "Henry the Eighth" was very superbly got 
up, and had a run of a hundred nights. Mrs. 
Kean's Queen Catharine was admirable, and Mr. 
Kean as Cardinal Wolsey was most satisfactory. 

We obtained tickets for the London Docks, and 
penetrated into their subterranean depths till our 
feet ached and our throats were full of cobwebs. 
Besides, what was the use of counting thousands of 
pipes of port wine, when not one drop of all that 
abundance was for our parched lips ? For miles 
and miles of solid archways these vaults extend 
under the bed of the Thames. Furnished with a 
flaring lamp apiece, — the said lamp being fastened 
to the end of a long stick, so that we could poke it 
here and there in the gloom as we pleased, — we 
followed our conductor, and met, at several turn- 
ings, other groups as spectral-looking as ourselves. 
The darkness is profound, and the sand and saw- 
dust with which all the passages are covered deaden 
every foot-fall. A party of people approaching us 



THE LONDON DOCKS. 311 

from a distance, lit up by the lurid glare of their 
lamps, their voices echoing through the damp arch- 
es, brought to mind the last scene in the opera of 
Don Giovanni ; and when they disappeared around 
a corner, the voices died away into low moans, and 
it was not difficult to imagine that they had entered 
the gates of hell. The tea ware-rooms, which we 
visited next, are stored with enough of the Chi- 
nese herb to supply half the world with a dish of 
tea ; and should such a tea-party be arranged, the 
neighboring wine-vaults would accommodate the 
guests without squeezing. The silk and spice rooms 
are rich in their respective contents, and the ivory 
department is grim with the tusks and teeth of ele- 
phants and the horns of the rhinoceros. Large bags 
of vegetable ivory-nuts lay on the ground, and huge 
stacks of beeswax cakes from Africa were piled up 
nearly to the ceiling. The gentlemen in the offices 
were extremely courteous to us, and gave us all the 
information which our ignorance in such matters 
led us to ask for. 

From the Docks we proceeded to the Thames 
Tunnel, which looks precisely as it does in the 
geographies of our childhood. We went down the 
long staircase, at the foot of which a little bit of a 
boy was playing on an accordion, and earning now 
and then a penny by his youthful music. In the 
recesses of the arches we found several little shops 



312 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

spread out with humble wares. The humid air, one 
would suppose, would soon send the poor shop- 
keepers where shows are not; but in the mean 
time their existence must be decidedly amphibious. 

We went to the Zoological Gardens, in Regent's 
Park, one comparatively pleasant morning. The 
locality is delightful, and the gardens are most ad- 
mirably adapted to the purposes for which they arc 
designed. They are very spacious, and abundantly 
stocked with animals. So far as it is possible to 
make the captivity of wild beasts humane, it has 
been done, and every effort is made to give comfort 
to the inhabitants of the forest and the jungle. The 
burly and hideous hippopotamus wallows about in 
his huge tank, as if it were the muddy water of his 
native Nile ; the giraffe crops his food from the 
branches of a tre.e ; the clumsy bear growls and 
snarls from the top of a tall pole ; and the parrots 
and cockatoos have a large, airy room to themselves, 
which resounds with their noisy chatter. The walks 
around the gardens are extremely pretty, and the 
collection of plants is very fine. 

The Palace of St. James is as ugly a building as 
one would wish to see, — gloomy and prison-like in 
effect, and without garden-grounds to relieve the 
naked aspect of the place. The interior, however, 
is said to be admirably arranged for the public 
receptions for which it is used. We made no at- 



THE queen's mews. 313 

tempt to see the rooms, and should probably have 
been unsuccessful if we had ; for the open hospital- 
ity of palaces in France does not prevail in colder 
England, and visitors are supposed to be much 
better employed in minding their own business at 
home, than in looking at their neighbors' premises. 
Buckingham Palace was impregnable, although the 
Queen was absent. It is a fine, stately-looking 
building, and we should have been glad to see the 
interior. The gardens are tolerably extensive, and 
may be very fine, for all the public knows to the 
contrary ; for they are not surrounded with open 
iron railings, and furnished with wide gates for 
general entrance, like the Tuileries garden, but are 
enclosed with an impervious and unsightly wall, 
about ten' feet high. The Londoners have not much 
share in the treasures of the aristocracy, and one 
misses the green trees and fountains of the Con- 
tinent, even though Hyde Park does contain so 
many acres. The Queen's Mews (stables) we were, 
however, permitted to gaze at, after receiving a 
ticket, which probably guards against all treasona- 
ble actions, and which the American Minister was 
allowed to give his fellow-citizens. They are on a 
large scale, neatly kept, and contain some fine 
horses. One beautiful black mare stood in her 
stall, and turned upon us a look full of malicious 
intelligence. She was one of the most beautiful 



314 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

creatures I ever saw, but was said to be almost un- 
governable. The state carriages shine in all their 
glory of scarlet and gold. The grand vehicle of all 
weighs some four tons, and is covered with paintings 
too elegant for their locality. The harnesses, old 
and new, adorned with gold and silver, and saddles 
and bridles of every description, are shown with a 
generosity which demands admiration, and they bear 
with patience the reverent examination of common 
eyes. The exhibition is gone through with such 
precision of routine, such solemnity of manner, and 
such gravity of superiority on the part of the cleri- 
cal-looking youth who condescends to accept your 
half-crown, that it is a little difficult to realize, on 
emerging from the gateway, which is locked as you 
stand upon the threshold, that it is after all only 
a carriage-house and a stable that you have been 
looking upon. 

Hyde Park is very satisfactory in its vast extent 
of greensward, its noble trees, and its spacious 
drive. It is worthy to be deemed the breathing- 
place of a great city ; only the poor people of Lon- 
don, to whom fresh air would be so grand a thing, 
have little leisure to sit in Hyde Park on week- 
days, and on Sunday it is thought more advisable to 
send them to church — or the alehouse. During 
a great part of the year, however, the dampness of 
the climate must diminish the enjoyment of pro- 



STAFFORD GALLERY. 315 

longed sittings in the open air, so that the parks 
of London, grand and beautiful as they arc, could 
never become the gay pleasure-grounds so common 
upon the Continent. 

At the renowned store of Storr and Mortimer — or, 
as Thackeray puts it, of " Morr and Stortimcr " — 
may be seen some of the finest plate in the world, 
and some of the costliest jewels out of the hands of 
royalty. A visitor is received with kindness, and 
shown the wonders of the establishment with great 
readiness. 

Under the guidance of Mr. Smith, a picture-dealer 
in New-Bond Street, we went one morning to see 
the collection of pictures at Stafford House. The 
paintings are most of them of rare merit. A Ma- 
donna by Guido fills the whole room with spiritual 
beauty, and haunts the memory with its sweet image. 
Raffaelle's " Madonna of the Palm " is here, a small 
picture by Salvator in a style unlike his usual som- 
bre coloring, a Claude of about the same size, and 
several Titians and Tintorettos also. In the Dutch 
collection there is a small Paul Potter, as also a 
fine Gerard Douw. The original Chandos portrait 
of Shakespeare is in one room, and there are por- 
traits by Lawrence and Lely, and a fine sea view 
by Turner. 

The British Museum deserves more time than we 
were able to give it, but even a glance may serve to 



316 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

fill the mind with some of its most attractive features. 
We ])assed rapidly through the apartments devoted 
to stuffed birds and beasts, to geology and minerals, 
to fishes and reptiles, and spent all our time among 
the statuary and bronzes and Etruscan vases. The 
Elgin marbles especially detained us, and we left 
them, at the last, with the greatest reluctance. A 
douceur to one of the keepers — evidently a deacon 
— obtained for us a sight of the Portland vase, 
which, since the whimsical smashing it received at 
the hands of an insane gentleman, has been kept 
sacred from danger. A drawing was made of all 
the fragments ; and to the original interest in the 
vase is now added the proof it affords of the inge- 
nuity of the mender, who has replaced even the 
minutest fragment, and united the broken ruin into 
its first strength and beauty. In the small room 
where it is now kept there are several other arti- 
cles of value and beauty ; — golden ornaments of 
very ancient date from Pompeii and from the bogs 
of Ireland ; also a fine collection of antique cameos, 
and a golden snuff-box set with diamonds, with a 
miniature of Napoleon on the top. 

But the oddest and most entirely unique place for 
a stranger to visit in London is Madame Tussaud's 
wax-work show. A whole evening may be spent in 
wandering over her rooms, which at a first glance 
appear only like rather pretty parlors, lit up for an 



MADAME TUSSAUD'S EXHIBITION. 317 

evening party, and furnished with' guests whose taste 
in dress is somewhat various. But on examination, 
you find that, with the exception of a few more 
spectators like yourself, the guests are waxen figures, 
in all the attitudes of life. The Queen holds her 
court here through a waxen image decidedly better- 
looking than herself; the Emperor of Austria and 
the Emperor of France have each their representa- 
tive, and their pretty wives are also sitting in state 
in the principal group. 

Anachronisms only add to the peculiar effect. 
Mary Queen of Scots and the Duke of Wellington, 
Lord Byron in his Greek dress and Mr. Disraeli in 
his curls, do not jostle each other, or appear aston- 
ished at their near proximity. Probably not one 
visitor in a hundred fails to mistake the sitting figure 
of Cobbett for an old-fashioned gentleman spectator 
who has forgotten to take his hat off. The dresses 
of most of the figures are elaborately correct, and the 
finish of the wax-work entitles them to the name of 
statuary. 

One room is, with questionable taste, set apart as 
" the chamber of horrors," and is adorned with 
effigies of celebrated murderers and murderesses. 
This room is more dimly lighted than the rest, and a 
striving after effect is attended with very poor suc- 
cess, as, instead of being frightful, it is simply dis- 
agreeable, and instead of being impressed, you only 

27* 



318 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

feel that you are among a set of very ugly-looking 
people. In another room an effigy of Napoleon lies 
upon a bed beneath a canopy, said, I know not how 
truly, to be the one on which he lay in state at St. 
Helena. Around the room are disposed many of the 
articles worn and used by him, and some French 
portraits. 

In the next room stands the carriage of the Em- 
peror, captured at Waterloo, and one or two other 
carriages used by him, as well as an interesting 
collection of weapons, garments, maps, and toilet 
articles which belonged to him. They seem in a 
strange neighborhood, among all the wax- work and 
finery of the other rooms. One small room is a 
precise copy of the chamber in which the Duke of 
Wellington lay in state. The pale face of the Iron 
Duke, so unmistakable in its lineaments, lies still 
and cold beneath the black velvet of the tall canopy, 
and black ostrich-plumes nod solemnly over him. 
However one's taste may revolt at the idea of seeing 
mere show representations of such matters, they are 
interesting from the fidelity with which all prac- 
ticable details are carried out. But one's dreams 
are haunted, after a visit to Madame Tussaud's 
mansion, with a strange procession of gayly-dressed 
people, with very evil and unearthly-looking waxen 
faces. One cannot help a slight shiver of nervous- 
ness, after gazing at those glassy eyes and painted 
cheeks, with their elfish mockery of humanity. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

A Visit to Windsor Castle. — Economical Preservative Arrangements of 
State Furniture. — Hampton Court. — Shopping in London. — Street 
Begging. — Contrasts in the Aspects of London and Paris. — Crystal 
Palace at Sydenham. 

We took a carriage for Paddington, and the train 
thence for Windsor Castle. The grand old edifice 
is very impressive in its outlines, and gives an idea 
of strength and solidity ; though it is by no means 
compact in arrangement, but rambles over a large 
extent of ground in an independent sort of way, 
starting out, here and there, with a round tower or 
a battlemented wall. Of the state apartments my 
chief remembrance is of a number of rooms in a 
cheerless condition, brought about by rolled-up car- 
pets, and furniture covered with linen bags. This 
was so injurious to the " palatial splendor," that it 
spoiled the effect of even that which remained un- 
covered, and made me nervous and uncomfortable, 
as if we were intruding into the home of some 
private gentleman. The excessive care taken of 
these things was in striking contrast to that at St. 



820 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

Cloud and Versailles, where the costliest furniture, 
the rarest ornaments, are open to examination, and 
where the veriest clodhopper may walk over the 
exquisitely polished floors and marble staircases, or 
look his eyes out at couches and chairs covered 
with the marvels of Gobelin tapestry, and curtains 
of fabulous cost and beauty. Here we were hurried 
rapidly through the rooms, with a rattling explana- 
tion from the custodian, who had no patience at any 
voice but his own. Even the paintings, some of 
which one would fain linger over, were unable to 
detain him from the expected fee, which he could 
not hope to receive till the show was over. The 
famous picture of Charles the First, by Yan Dyck, 
hangs in one of these rooms, and the sad face looks 
out from the canvas with its prophetic mournful- 
ness. The guard-room has some fine old weapons 
of war in it, and a silver shield inlaid with gold, 
the work of Benvenuto Cellini. It was presented 
to Henry the Eighth by Francis the First, upon the 
Field of the Cloth of Gold. The Chapel of St. 
George is indescribably beautiful. The choir is a 
wonder of delicate embellishment. One can call 
up at will the pageant of an installation, so much 
does the place harmonize with its associations. The 
view from the top of the Round Tower is full of a 
sweet and tranquil beauty. It has no very grand 
features, but is extensive and cheerful. The Park 



HAMPTON COURT. 321 

and grounds are beautiful ; the Long Terrace sug- 
gests a thousand pictures of the past. 

Windsor Castle is a favorite theme for travellers, 
and always receives its meed of admiration. But 
stately as it is, and suggestive of royal life, it failed 
to impress me with half the delight I experienced 
in a visit we made to Hampton Court. This quaint 
old palace has a simple dignity about it which is 
irresistible, and quite effaced the image of Windsor 
Castle's more pretentious ponderosity. Odd and 
picturesque in architecture, venerable in aspect, 
pleasant in situation, it stands upon the river's 
bank, an image of respectable repose. There is 
nothing of parvenu display about it in any way ; 
everything within and without looks as if it had 
long been in the same condition as at present, and 
reminds one of what we modern careless ones call 
"a gentleman of the old school," — a little pompous 
and stately, but withal thoroughly well-appointed and 
genteel. The cloisters seem waiting for Cardinal 
Wolsey to walk over the stone pavement, the little 
fountain whispers plaintively of departed splendor, 
and the court-yard silence is more impressive than 
a crowd. Many of the apartments are occupied by 
the Queen's pensioners, but the state apartments 
are also very numerous. As the Queen never 
resides here, they may almost always be seen. 
They are scantily furnished, and sometimes sadly 



322 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

cheerless and forlorn, but abound in paintings, 
many of which are very beautiful. State beds, 
whose former occivpants are long since dust, stand 
in melancholy grandeur in some of the rooms. A 
few articles of royal furniture adoril some of the 
chambers, and the state canopy which shadowed 
the remains of the Duke of Wellington has been 
set up in one room. The Cartoons of Raphael 
cover the walls of a long and gloomy apartment, 
while the beauties of the Court of Charles the 
Second smile from the walls of another more 
cheerful room. These last possess undeniable 
beauty, but it is not always of a winning or ele- 
vated sort. There is a beautiful portrait of Mad- 
ame de Pompadour, by Greuze, in one room. She 
is seated at an embroidery frame ; her face is so 
full of life, and fresh, fair beauty, her attitude 
is so graceful, and the little white hands seem so 
ready to resume their labor when you shall turn 
away, that the picture is quite fascinating. Some 
of West's best paintings are here, and Kneller 
and Lely have many portraits. The ceilings of 
most of the apartments are richly painted ; — the 
great banqueting hall, built by Wolsey, is hung 
with ancient tapestry, and lighted by very beauti- 
ful stained windows. The grounds and gardens 
around the palace are spacious, and kept in ex- 
quisite order. The trees are large and luxuriant 



SHOPPING IN LONDON. 323 

in growth, refreshing the eye after the stiff and 
formal trees of the French parks. 

Shopping in London is quite an arduous affair, 
and requires much circumspection. The prices of 
articles vary a good deal, according to the locality 
in which they are purchased. In the aristocratic 
region of Regent Street you must pay more for what 
you buy than you will if you prolong your walk and 
postpone your purchases till you arrive at St. Paul's 
Churchyard, or the Strand. Also it is said that 
London, like Paris, has two sets of prices, wide 
apart from each other : one for the accommodation 
of London customers, another for the edification of 
all whose appearance indicates them not "to the 
manner born" and bred. Of course, strangers have 
little opportunity for judging of this by sudden con- 
trasts in their own experience, as the two classes are 
never confounded together by the shrewd and sharp- 
eyed London tradesman. The high prices demanded, 
however, do suggest that some people must be able to 
supply their wants at a smaller outlay than you seem 
likely to do. A shopping expedition in London is 
not a pleasant operation ; it is quite unlike the gay 
and exhilarating exercise of hovering about among 
the cheerful shops and smiling shopwomen of Paris. 
It was quite a merry matter to do the inevitable 
cheapening in Paris ; the shrugs and ejaculations, 
the elevated eyebrows and the voluble protestations, 



324 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

made you laugh, in spite of yourself; and if the re- 
sult were not always satisfactory, it was difficult to 
get angry with such imperturbable good-nature. 

The pleading earnestness with which the chatty 
and natty little shopwomen of that city persuade 
you into purchasing, by compliments upon your fine 
taste, and the manner in which they gradually, but 
certainly, yield, as it were, to your own superior 
judgment in regard to the matter, — lowering the 
price with a pleasant grace, " not to be disagreeable," 
or "pour vous engager,' ' — all this is so piquant 
and irresistible, that the money is out of your pocket 
and the article addressed to your room before you 
are well aware how it all came about. Everybody 
concerned, however, seems to become exhilarated in 
the process, and you walk out of the shop convinced 
that in some way you have done a good thing. But 
the British Lion is apt to consider his shop as his 
castle, and to assume a belligerent attitude when a 
customer questions or examines too closely. 

It is oppressive and discouraging to enter twenty 
or thirty of those sunless shops in London, to hear 
each merchant repeat the same stereotyped phrases, 
and assure you that " upon honor" he offers you an 
article at a lower rate and of a better quality than 
you will find it " in any other house in London," 
when you have seen the same thing at the same 
price a dozen times before since you started. 



STREET-BEGGING. 325 

Having occasion to go into an immense number 
of shops of all kinds in London, the decided im- 
pression we received cannot have arisen from in- 
adequate knowledge. The only chance for decep- 
tion in regard to the prices was involved in the 
very evident fact that our party was not English ; 
but that fact was not sufficient to change any but 
the moneyed aspect. Of course, too, there are spe- 
cial articles which the London market affords at a 
cheaper rate than most places ; among them, the 
most prominent that came under our observation 
were ready-made linen and cutlery. The exceptions 
to the experience described were too infrequent to do 
more than prove the general rule, and we continued 
to regard our shopping expeditions about the city as 
very disagreeable necessities. 

Another experience which a short stay in London 
affords a stranger, contrasts as much as the shopping 
I have described with the same experience in Paris. 
I mean the street-begging, which in the two cities 
is as much unlike as the skies which overhang the 
two. There are a great many pertinacious beggars 
in each city, of course ; but they go to work very 
differently. The Paris beggar rushes to shut the 
door of your carriage, to put his hand upon the 
wheel that your dress may not be dusty, — to do, in 
short, anything which there is no sort of necessity 
for him to do, — and then, in the politest manner, 

28 



326 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

and with a charming smile, requests a sou. Or, 
beneath your window a voice is heard singing some 
old ballad of love or war, and, on looking out, you 
behold a poor man, with at least one wooden leg, 
holding his hat in his hand, and assisted by all the 
children in the street in picking up the sous which 
fall from the windows. Or, again, you may see 
upon the Boulevards some poor, blind cripple, play- 
ing excruciatingly upon a violin, hoping to gain an 
honest penny from some lover of music. And when 
you enter a church for morning service, you will see 
one or two very old women sitting in wooden chairs 
near the entrance, so silent, so motionless, that they 
seem like statues, till some pitying soul drops a bit 
of money into that outstretched hand, and then the 
withered fingers close upon it, and muttered thanks 
issue from the wrinkled lips. Now, in all this pov- 
erty there is nothing which is absolutely painful 
and hopeless ; you feel as if the trifle which you 
bestow were good for something, where so little is 
needed, and where thanks are so profuse. The beg- 
gars do not seem very unhappy, or in such extreme 
of destitution. But in London one is actually ap- 
palled by the haggard faces and despairing accents 
of the street-beggars. To walk a short distance in 
the evening is an experience from which a woman 
shrinks after the first attempt. It is said that much 
of this misery is counterfeit, and many who implore 



STREET-BEGGING. 327 

you for a sixpence are mere professional beggars. 
But how is one to tell the counterfeit from the true ? 
Some of those tones must be wrung from the heart ; 
those wild eyes must have seen frightful sights ; 
those emaciated forms must have known hunger 
and cold. You feel so powerless to relieve, so help- 
less under such a mass of suffering, and yet so urged 
by impulse to give all you can ; but if you give a 
shilling to the pale woman who touches your arm 
and tells you of seven small starving children, up 
starts another woman who has nine instead of seven, 
and a feeling comes over you half of dismay and 
half of amusement, as you go through the differ- 
ent grades, and you cannot help thinking that the 
narrators are some of them more expert than trust- 
worthy. The tales of woe get more and more thrill- 
ing, the applicants grow more and more urgent, 
and your landlady has told you that the professed 
mendicants are numbered by thousands ; so at last 
prudence pulls the strings of your purse, and you 
go home not knowing whether you have, after all, 
relieved misery, or only encouraged vice. 

To turn from the sad to the fanciful, and at the 
same time retain the idea of contrast between Lon- 
don and Paris which is inevitably recurrent to one 
who sees both cities for the first time within a 
short interval, we will say that London seems like 
a huge black spider, toiling away forever in a cob- 



328 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

web of smoke and fog, looking at the cold, damp 
ground for worms and flies, heedless whether the sky 
be blue or no ; while Paris is like a gay butterfly 
rejoicing in the sunshine, thriftless but happy, and 
which, if it ever light at all, will touch but a mo- 
ment at some fragrant rose or gaudy tulip. The 
same fantastic resemblances may be found for the 
inhabitants of the two places ; — the people one 
meets in London have a heavy look, like mastiffs 
and bull-dogs ; while the streets of Paris are full of 
chattering groups, that rush hither and thither in 
jocose vociferation, like parrots and mocking-birds. 

If any of my readers are as vague in their ideas 
of what the Crystal Palace at Sydenham really is, 
and what it is intended to illustrate and promote, 
as I was before visiting it, some description of its 
many wonders may not be wholly without interest. 
Viewing it from no particular point of prejudice or 
prepossession, and with no bias of attraction in one 
direction to the exclusion of appreciation in others, 
it is impossible to regard it as anything less than 
a magnificent grasp after great results, already re- 
warded with a good share of success, and in a fair 
way to arrive at the perfection at which its origi- 
nators aim. 

The palace itself is the same building which stood 
in Hyde Park, and contained the World's Fair of 
1851. It has been transported to Sydenham, dis- 



CRYSTAL PALACE AT SYDENHAM. 329 

tant about twenty minutes, by the railway, from 
London Bridge. The site chosen is very beautiful, 
and the position very commanding. The original 
building has been enlarged and improved in many 
ways. Its height has been increased forty-four feet, 
and on the garden side, by which visitors from the 
city approach it, its elevation is still greater, as the 
ground on which it stands slopes so rapidly as to 
allow of a basement story. This story has been 
made use of as a storehouse for agricultural imple- 
ments, and also affords a fine opportunity for com- 
modious arrangement of the machinery which is 
exhibited in motion. 

There is also, behind this basement, a tunnel, or 
shaft, twenty-four feet wide, through which a rail- 
way is laid, upon which are brought in and carried 
out all the heavy articles connected with the exhibi- 
tion, — an admirable arrangement, which prevents 
all confusion in the main building. 

But before entering the palace we must take a 
look at the grounds, which are laid out in an at- 
tractive and beautiful manner. The park, as it is 
called, is an irregular oval, comprising about two 
hundred acres of land, with many pretty undula- 
tions and little turfy knolls, that break the monot- 
ony agreeably. It is well wooded with handsome 
trees, and by means of the water-works connected 
with the palace is supplied with many fountains, 

28* 



330 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

cascades, and miniature ponds. Flowers of every 
hue meet the eye. Large clusters of geraniums, in 
robes of living flame, gleam out from the fresh green 
of the closely-shorn turf. Verbenas of different 
colors are arranged in many figures over beds of 
green ; and sometimes a series of circles, one within 
another, is ingeniously disposed, so as to exhibit all 
the shades which the rainbow might display, if lying 
down to rest upon the grass. The great preponder- 
ance of green over the brilliant tints of the blossoms 
prevents the eye from becoming dazzled or weary 
with much gorgeous coloring, at the same time that 
it sets off to the greatest advantage the flowers them- 
selves, which rise as if from a velvet carpet. 

The gardens are laid out in two different styles, 
known as the Italian and the English Landscape. 
The distinguishing features of the first style are ter- 
races ornamented with vases and statuary, flower- 
beds cut in mathematical figures, trees pruned 
into formal shapes, and walks laid out in straight 
lines. The English landscape garden, on the con- 
trary, is planned in accordance with the luxu- 
riant variety and graceful forms which Nature 
herself assumes. In the Sydenham grounds, a 
happy mixture of the two styles has been adopted. 
Some of the prettiest features of the Italian are 
seen in the terraces, which spread before you, as 
you step from the front of the palace. The broad, 



CRYSTAL PALACE AT SYDENHAM. 331 

smooth alleys, with their long perspective of statues 
and vases, are relieved from stiffness by abundant 
foliage and undulating greensward ; and from this, 
through a transitional and blended style, you pass 
into the full luxuriance of branching trees and 
shady nooks, and all the untrammelled growth of 
the so-called English garden. 

The fountains and reservoirs form a most at- 
tractive feature of the park. Ten miles of iron 
pipes supply them with water, which is taken from 
an Artesian well, built at great expense. In the 
two immense towers which stand at each end of 
the palace, and which when entirely finished will 
be two hundred and eighty-four feet high, are the 
great tanks which furnish the fountains, holding- 
over three hundred thousand gallons each. The 
central basin or reservoir in the park is a hundred 
and ninety feet in diameter; the cascades beyond 
are four hundred and fifty feet long, and the tallest 
fountain throws its spray to a height of more than 
two hundred feet. This delicious abundance of 
water spreads a charm over the gardens, which even 
the beautiful trees and gay flowers would be insuf- 
ficient to produce without its aid. And that lovely 
green of the incomparable English turf, so smooth, 
so closely shaven, so velvety to the tread, so refresh- 
ing to the eyes, — one never tires of that, never 
grows weary of admiring its emerald glow. 



332 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

A portion of the grounds is set apart for the 
illustration of geology, and in it may be seen many 
specimens of rock and coal formations, arranged as 
they occur in the places where they originate. The 
old and new red sandstone, the limestone and iron- 
stone beds, are also represented. Great quantities 
of materials have been brought here, and the idea 
is intended to be carried out with care, and de- 
veloped largely. This portion of the plan is, as 
yet, in a very unfinished state. Huge models of 
extinct animals, the giant inhabitants of the once 
young earth, adorn this portion of the grounds with 
ponderous frames and wonderful shapes. These 
antediluvians have names as long and as unmanage- 
able as themselves; any attempt which I might 
rashly make to spell them out would result in my 
own disgrace, and the discomfiture of all but sci- 
entific readers. "We will leave them, if you please, 
and turn towards the palace itself. 

The railway from London runs through one 
corner of the park, and stops under a large, glass- 
covered station, from which a long gallery conducts 
you to the palace entrance. This gallery is, in fact, 
a sort of green-house, eighteen feet in height and 
about seven hundred long, and is filled on both sides 
with climbing plants, whose delicate blossoms send 
forth rare fragrance. A high flight of steps leads 
to the main floor of the palace, and you enter at 



CRYSTAL PALACE AT SYDENHAM. 333 

once into such a bewildering variety of attractions, 
such a lavishness of wonders, such an overwhelm- 
ing abundance of strange and beautiful and in- 
teresting objects, that the memory almost refuses 
to classify them, but retains a shifting and chang- 
ing but brilliant picture of each only as it helped 
to form a blended whole. The most careful read- 
ing of the elaborate guide-book failed to give me a 
clear idea of the relation which one portion of the 
building bore to another. I only know that one 
court followed another, through all the vast area ; 
that architecture and sculpture had each a grand 
display ; that flowers bloomed from the ponds edged 
with marble, or floated their leaves upon the air 
above from hanging vases. In one of the huge 
tanks the monstrous leaves of the Victoria Regia 
lay like green islands, and many other lovely water- 
plants bloomed freely as in their native rivers. An 
indescribable air of freshness is imparted by the pro- 
fusion of flowers ; and the singing birds add to the 
illusion which the soft, warm air has already sug- 
gested, that we are fairly in the tropics. 

In one part of the building is a telegraph and 
post-office ; in another, a reading-room ; in another, 
a printing-press hard at work. Passing by these 
matters, as not exactly what we have come to see, 
giving only a glance at the forlorn and stiff plaster 
images of the kings of England, which stand up as 



334 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

straight and nearly as much alike as the pikes in an 
armory, we look for the courts which represent the 
orders of architecture. One of these courts is a fac- 
simile of one of the houses unearthed in the exca- 
vations at Pompeii. Another is the " Greek Court," 
wherein stands the largest and most perfect model 
which has ever been made of the Parthenon ; it 
also contains copies of the famous Niobe group, of 
the Venus de' Medici, and of the beautiful Psyche 
from the Museum at Naples. Near the Greek Court 
stands an imposing array of statuary, — copies of 
all the best works of Greek art which have been 
handed down to us. It is wonderful how much 
beauty lies in the mutilated fragments of those 
Greek statues, even in the eyes of persons who 
lay no claim to rank as artists. One turns back, 
again and again, with lingering looks, and almost 
doubts if the whole statue or bas-relief be not 
really before the eye, so completely does that which 
remains suggest that which is gone, or satisfy the 
taste even in its incompleteness. I remember that, 
after gazing awhile at the lovely Venus Victrix in 
the Louvre, I lost entirely the idea of her having 
no arms, and now can recall her as perfect more 
easily than I can reproduce the breaks in the mar- 
ble and the deficiency in the arms. One reason of 
this I believe to be that the Greek artists so far 
excel all others in combining the two impressions of 



CRYSTAL PALACE AT SYDENHAM. 335 

action and repose, — they do not jar each other by 
the slightest contradiction, but the whole figure ex- 
presses precisely what each portion of it expresses, 
and the result is a harmony and a power which we 
find nowhere else. This is most especially the case 
in the magnificent Elgin marbles at the British 
Museum. You stand before a broken trunk, head- 
less, footless, and handless ; yet you cannot but 
feel that there is vitality in what remains, — the 
mutilated form speaks so plainly, through muscu- 
lar development, that you do not hesitate to pro- 
nounce it beautiful. Those Elgin marbles are 
absolutely wonderful ; it is impossible to feel angry 
with the manner in which they were obtained, be- 
cause you feel so grateful for the privilege of see- 
ing them. Those broken bas-reliefs, those headless 
bodies and bodiless heads, win your very heart, and 
you leave them, at last, with a feeling of regret, and 
an infinite longing to return. There is a horse's 
head there, of life-size, of such ideal beauty that it 
haunts the memory with its image ; those who 
have seen it will not, I feel sure, accuse me of ex- 
travagance. 

The multitude of casts at the Crystal Palace, 
though necessarily only imperfect suggestions of 
the magnificent originals, are extremely interesting, 
and well worthy of study from those to whom the 
originals are unattainable. The completeness which 



336 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

the collection lias already arrived at deserves the 
highest praise. It is intended that no work of art 
which the judgment of the world has pronounced 
worthy of admiration shall fail of a representation 
at Sydenham. The number of copies pertaining to 
the Greek Court alone amounts to two hundred and 
sixteen. 

There are, in all, eighteen different courts on the 
main floor. It takes several quite large volumes to 
describe the wealth of objects they contain. It would 
be hopeless for me to attempt to classify or describe, 
except in the most general manner. We spent a 
whole day in most industrious examination, and 
many more might fail to inform one of all their 
contents. Yet it is astonishing how expert the eye 
becomes, after a little apprenticeship at sight-seeing. 
One's perceptive powers construct a railroad of their 
own, and, flying at lightning speed past miles of 
objects, stop only at those which are most in con- 
sonance with their own tastes. One glance will tell 
a practised eye if there be anything among a hun- 
dred objects that will reward examination. 

One of the most interesting of the architectural 
courts is the Egyptian. Advancing up an avenue 
of lions, you see before you the walls and columns 
of a temple, with capitals of palm and lotus leaves, 
with hieroglyphics and sunk reliefs. Near by is a 
dark tomb, dated 1660 B.C. Then comes the rock 



CRYSTAL PALACE AT SYDENHAM. 337 

temple of Aboo Simbel, from Nubia, with its stern, 
yet sad, sitting statues. This model is only one 
tenth the size of the temple, but in the northern 
transept are precise copies of the two large statues 
of Rameses the Great and his wife, the same figures 
as those which, in smaller size, adorn the temple 
entrance. The statues measure sixty-four feet in 
height. They sit there, gazing out upon space, just 
as they have sat for ages looking over the desert 
sands. There is a kind of fascination in their huge 
features : a feeling of serenity steals over the mind 
of him who studies their gigantic calmness and their 
grand repose. Enormous and massive, they are yet 
not monstrous ; strangely colored with peculiar tints, 
they possess artistic beauty, and retain a degree of 
the human element which it would seem, at first, 
their colossal proportions would interfere with. 
From these we turn to take a look at a portion of 
the Hall of Columns from the renowned Temple 
of Karnak. It would take longer time than we can 
spare to study out all the close fidelity with which 
these ancient hieroglyphics and these strange paint- 
ings have been copied for our untravelled eyes to 
look at. Egypt is brought to London, and at 
Sydenham it is easy to take very long journeys in 
time and space. 

We enter the Assyrian Court, and are impressed 
with its fantastic aspect. Winged bulls of enormous 

29 v 



338 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

altitude stare at us in a distressing manner. Giant 
hieroglyphs are painted on a light-brown ground ; 
strange sculptured men and women, with Jewish- 
looking faces, seem to walk the walls. They are 
all accurately copied from excavations at Nineveh. 
This is the largest of the single courts, owing to the 
great space necessary for the representation of a 
few objects ; and we turn away from the ponderous 
copper-colored monsters, to find relief in the deli- 
cate elaborations of the Alhambra Court. 

This is a reproduction of the Court of Lions, the 
Tribunal of Justice, and the Hall of the Abencerrages. 
It is hopeless to attempt in words to convey an idea 
of the exceeding beauty and richness of this speci- 
men of Moorish art. The coloring resembles the 
illuminations upon old parchment missals ; the roofs 
are formed into the most graceful arches, which 
seem like fairy handiwork. The roof of the Hall of 
the Abencerrages is fringed, as it were, into crystal- 
lization, and is, in the original, composed of five 
thousand separate pieces. The colors are brilliant 
and various ; floors, walls, and ceilings glow with 
the delicate mosaic-work, and the whole resembles 
rather the minute inlaying of a lady's work-box, 
than the usual ornaments of architecture. 

Then come courts which, for want of space, we 
can do little more than name. There are the Ger- 
man and the English and the French Mediaeval 



CRYSTAL PALACE AT SYDENHAM. 339 

Courts, each rich in specimens of architecture, in 
copies of gateways and church-doors, in tombs and 
monuments, equestrian statues and lordly effigies. 
There are windows from cathedrals, and arches, and 
screen decorations, and altar railings, — in fact, all 
examples of the beautiful decorations with which 
our forefathers loved to adorn the house of God. 
The Renaissance Court is loaded with the excessive 
ornament of its style of architecture, — statues and 
fountains, cornices and pillars, each more elaborate 
than the last, and each suggestive of the years of 
labor which were bestowed upon them. So full of 
scroll-work and tracery and foliage and grotesque 
shapings is the whole, that not an inch of plain sur- 
face seems left for the eye to rest upon. The Ital- 
ian Court contains fine copies of the ornamented 
walls of the Roman palaces, a beautiful altar from 
the Cathedral of St. Mark, Venice, and some ex- 
quisite water-color drawings after the old masters. 
The Birmingham and Sheffield Courts are full of 
cutlery and plated ware, and so on through the 
long array. 

We have not described the tenth of what is to 
be seen on the first floor. There are the second 
floor and the galleries ! On the second floor there 
are little stalls, where a great variety of things may 
be purchased ; toys and jewelry, perfumes and toi- 
let articles, — in short, almost anything which may 



340 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

be carried away in a carpet-bag. The number of 
bogwood bracelets and brooches is positively alarm- 
ing ; one would imagine that the whole of Ireland 
was in process of cutting up, to make ornaments for 
the rest of the world. There are Scotch pebble 
ornaments enough to build up a mountain that would 
look down on Ben Lomond. 

We have taken a hasty dinner at one of the tables, 
which are kept constantly supplied with meats and 
coffee, and ale and pies ; we have heard the Crystal 
Palace band, which numbers sixty performers, play 
the English and French national airs, followed by 
applause which brings us up suddenly from our re- 
searches in Nineveh, to remind us that it is A. D. 
1855, and that Sebastopol has been taken. This 
very week the news has come to thrill all England 
and all France ; and in each country may be heard 
mingling, almost in one strain, the grand old music 
of " God save the Queen " and the sweet air " Par- 
tant pour la Syrie." 

"We have left almost unnoticed the innumera- 
ble industrial objects of the palace ; we have only 
glanced, in passing, at the Natural History de- 
partment, where uncouth animals and still more 
uncouth New-Zealanders figure ; we have not ex- 
amined as we would the rare exotics which grow 
as if at home, nor watched half long enough the 
nightingales and thrushes, the linnets and cana- 



CRYSTAL PALACE AT SYDENHAM. 341 

ries. We have, however, paid our respects to the 
wonderful white cockatoo, who shouts out : " How 
d' ye do ? " as we go by him. We are very wea- 
ry, and we have seen enough to satisfy us with 
one visit. So, with one more glance over the beau- 
tiful park, we hurry away in season for the London 
train. 



29* 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Night Train to Edinburgh. — Picturesque Beauty of the Scottish Capital. 
— Stirling Castle, and a Sunset on the Grampian Hills. — The Tro- 
sachs, and Lakes Katrine and Lomond. — Glasgow. — Night Train to 
Liverpool. — City of Chester. — Bangor and the Tubular Bridge. — 
Eeturn to Liverpool. — Day of Best. — Voyage Home. 

We left London in the express train for Edin- 
burgh, at nine o'clock in the evening. In this way 
we gained time at both ends of the journey, — and 
time was now becoming very precious to us, — and 
lost only that tantalizing and unsatisfactory glimpse 
of the country that is obtainable through the win- 
dows of a railway-car. "We also had an opportunity 
of experiencing the much-vaunted English railway 
speed, as we rattled off at the rate of some fifty miles 
an hour, and not unfrequently made our mile a 
minute for many successive miles. The distance 
between the cities is over four hundred miles, which 
we accomplished in eleven hours, running time. 
The cars were commodious, and as no change 
was made on the way, we were able to establish 
ourselves comfortably, and to remain without dis- 
turbance to our journey's end. The excitement of 
clashing through the country, shrieking and thun- 



NIGHT TRAIN TO EDINBURGH. 343 

dering along so rapidly, and apparently so recklessly, 
had a fearful fascination in it. It seemed as if, like 
" the night train " which Dickens so graphically de- 
scribes, we too were hunting down some miserable 
predestined victim, whose fate was none the less 
certain that it was delayed awhile. The darkness 
of a night on which neither moon nor stars were 
shining was about us ; the sickly light of our own 
lanterns shed feeble glimmerings on each side, and 
at times the weird flames of forge-fires and chemical 
works glared through the blackness. The stations 
were chilly and lonely, as we stopped to take breath ; 
there were no screaming news-boys and no pertina- 
cious apple-women, no idle loungers and no per- 
plexed way-passengers eagerly looking for seats. 
The forced wakefulness, the increasing fatigue, the 
never-ceasing rumble of the cars, made the whole 
like a long-continued nightmare. As the early 
twilight began to reveal the objects about us, we 
found ourselves involuntarily opening our sleepy 
eyes, and gazing with some curiosity into the dim 
and misty morning. The air was chill, and a cold 
dampness seemed to cover everything. But the 
fields were deliciously green, and the stone cottages, 
which clustered together in the secluded nooks, 
seemed as if their repose had been undisturbed for 
centuries. Now and then an old castle, or a pic- 
turesque ruin, drew our attention, or a flowing river 



344 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

ran between hills whose rough and bleak aspect told 
us that we were in Scotland. 

The repose we so much needed we found at the 
Waterloo Hotel, and in a few hours we were ready 
to commence our exploration of Edinburgh. This 
is certainly one of the most picturesque of cities, — 
full of cliffs and crags, of valleys and hollows, on 
which and in which ancient, melancholy-looking 
houses cluster together, seeming to look suspicious- 
ly at newer comers, whose broader and more showy 
architecture tells of later days. Salisbury Crag, 
with its rocky battlement, looks down upon the city ; 
Arthur's Seat towers high in the air ; and beneath 
them both, the old palace of Holyrood mocks at the 
passing years. The city, though large, is arranged 
in such a way that the objects of greatest interest 
to a stranger may be seen in a short time, and with 
little fatigue. The newer portion of the place is 
more spacious and more like other cities, consisting 
of broad and handsome streets, with elegant and 
substantial blocks of houses. But it is in the " Old 
Town " that the tale of the past is told. 

From the top of the Nelson monument, which 
crowns Calton Hill, there is a fine view of the city 
with its environs, and also of the country beyond, 
with the Frith of Forth, stretching far away to 
the sea. But it is from the battlements of the 
Castle, which stands on a high cliff in the midst of 



EDINBURGH. 845 

the city, that the best view of the Old Town is ob- 
tained. All its dark and narrow streets, all its pell- 
mell architecture, all its quaint sights, are spread 
beneath yon, and many a narrow lane, or, as it is 
called here, a " close," may be peered into by the 
inquisitive. The " close " is often not more than 
four or five feet wide, intended, of course, only for 
pedestrians, and diving down into depths of dirty 
tenements, or climbing heights of dismal abodes, 
whence issue forth reeking odors of filth and disease. 
"We thought the houses at Rotterdam tall, when we 
looked at their seven and eight rows of windows, 
but in Edinburgh we counted ten and eleven stories ; 
we even heard rumors of one house eighteen stories 
high, which, however, we were unable to find. The 
public buildings of the city are, most of them, built 
of granite, — are large, showy, and somewhat pre- 
tentious in style. In looking at them, one so far 
agrees with Euskin as to allow that their archi- 
tecture does not in the least indicate the purposes 
they are intended to serve. 

The localities of Edinburgh call up very vividly 
the novels of Walter Scott, and the lofty monument 
erected to his memory comes very naturally and 
pleasantly upon one who has just wandered through 
the Canongate. This monument, a handsome and 
elaborate structure, occupies a fine position in the 
handsomest public square. The City Prison, nearly 



846 HIGHWAYS OP TRAVEL. 

opposite our hotel, is a castellated building, or 
rather a collection of buildings, the use of which 
would never be guessed from the appearance or 
position. It consists of four handsome stone edi- 
fices, surrounded by a high wall, and standing on 
an elevation above the present grade of the street. 
One building is for debtors, another for female 
prisoners, and another for criminals. The fourth, 
somewhat smaller, and resembling a miniature 
feudal castle, is the residence of the Governor of 
the Prison. From the midst of the whole there 
towers up the shaft of the " Martyrs' Monument," 
which adds to the peculiar and conspicuous effect. 

We took a carriage, and drove through the Park 
of Holyrood, over what is called " The Queen's 
Drive." This drive winds over the Salisbury Crags, 
and affords beautiful views in each direction, as- 
cends nearly to the summit of Arthur's Seat, and 
descends by the Palace. Leaving the carriage at 
the highest point in the road, we climbed to the top 
of Arthur's Seat, to be charmed with the splendid 
panorama spread around. 

The palace of Holyrood is full of romantic inter- 
est, and the excellent preservation in which the 
place is kept adds strength to the illusions which 
fill the mind when wandering over the old cham- 
bers. The Quadrangle is very fine ; the picture 
gallery, though not rich in gems of art, is inter' 



HOLYROOD. 347 

esting from its associations, and from the oddity of 
some of the pictures. In the ball-room, next the 
gallery, were held the festivities of the ancient court, 
the last ball having been given in honor of the un- 
fortunate Charles Edward. But the most interest- 
ing portion of the whole is that part of the palace 
most intimately associated with Queen Mary. The 
bed-chamber, with the furniture she used ; her 
presence-chamber, where stern John Knox fright- 
ened her with his anathemas; her little cabinet, 
where Rizzio was murdered before her eyes, — all 
are there, altered only by age, and one cannot re- 
sist the spell which lingers over them. How often 
and how sadly the poor Queen looked out of those 
little windows, or, gazing round those low and 
dreary chambers, sighed for her " sunny France " ! 
Darnley's apartments are next these ; the little 
winding turret-stairs, by which the conspirators 
mounted to the Queen's closet, still seem chilled 
with the remembrance of that deed of darkness, 
and prepare us to receive with implicit faith the 
story that the dark spot at the landing of the grand 
staircase is the blood of the poor Italian. The 
whole atmosphere of Holyrood breathes of the name 
of Mary, and all its earlier and all its later associa- 
tions fade away before the deep tragedy of that 
one life. The newer apartments of the palace are 
tolerably handsome, for the Queen of England re- 



348 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

sides there during her visits to Edinburgh ; the park 
is green and pretty ; the court-yard airy and spa- 
cious ; but the fascination of the place is all in those 
few dark chambers. The ruins of the Abbey, so 
familiar to us through pictures, are worthy of long 
study ; each fragment of sculpture, each groined 
arch and slender pillar, and each stone tablet, pos- 
sessing something of beauty, or something of sad 
interest. The large window is a most beautiful 
specimen of the Gothic style ; it seems hardly credi- 
ble that such airy and graceful lines, such delicate 
and intricate mouldings, should be carved out of 
stone. They stand out in such pure and clear out- 
line against the bright blue sky, that one ceases to 
regret the stained glass which once adorned them, 
and the heaven above seems, after all, the fittest roof 
for such a still and haunted sanctuary. 

Two days in Edinburgh, though not sufficient to 
exhaust its "lions," are enough to allow one who 
makes the most of the time ample opportunity for 
storing the memory with images, and for impressing 
on the eye a thousand picturesque and beautiful 
scenes. There is so much of what we call " char- 
acter" in each of the views which a walk or a drive 
affords, that they hang themselves as separate pic- 
tures in the gallery of memory. We left in the four 
o'clock train for Stirling, hoping for just what we 
were so fortunate as to obtain, — a sunset view of 



STIRLING CASTLE. 349 

the Castle and the valley which it commands. We 
stood upon the Castle walls, bathed in the golden 
radiance which flooded the whole scene. Beneath 
us, at our very feet, lay the still valley, through 
which the little river Forth winds so tortuously, 
that, in flowing eighteen miles, it only gains six 
miles of progress towards its ultimate destination, 
which it seems in no hurry to reach. Far off in the 
west, and in the very heart of the sunset splendor, 
rose the high Grampian Hills, seeming to stretch 
farther and farther into the illimitable ether, the 
longer we gazed at them. I shall not soon forget 
that Scottish sunset. The Castle is a fine, romantic 
old place : the guide, if you are as fortunate as we 
were, will tell you tales about it as long as you will 
listen, and quote the poetry of Walter Scott with 
great fluency, and with apparent appreciation. We 
lingered about the place till the air grew chill ; and 
then, returning to our carriage, rattled over the old 
pavements and through the narrow streets of the 
city to our hotel. In the evening we wandered 
out again, and dived into some of the funny little 
shops, which, however, did not often prove very 
tempting. 

Next morning we secured our seats on the top of 
the coach bound for the Trosachs and Loch Katrine. 
How charmingly the Scotch heather bloomed along 
the road-side, seeming to beg us to gather it for its 



350 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

own relief! The Trosachs means "the bristled 
territory," and most certainly the name is well 
chosen. Large and small hills seem to be actually 
jostling each other, protruding out of each other at 
all sorts of odd angles, sharp and stiff as if accus- 
tomed to have their position disputed, but none the 
less determined to maintain it at all hazards. The 
expression of pertness in some of these miniature 
mountains was absolutely laughable. The whole 
drive was charming, in spite of the piercing chilli- 
ness of the mountain air ; we were continually ex- 
claiming over some lovely glen, or some hill-side bit 
of scenery, or some odd mountain profile, or some 
still lake embosomed in the hills. The clay was 
variable, and the alternation of sunshine and cloud 
gave ever-new shape and coloring to the landscape. 
We looked long at the high Ben Ledi, or " Moun- 
tain of God," which is seen to advantage from the 
deck of the little steamer which took us over the 
bosom of Loch Katrine. The lake itself is some- 
what ordinary, and even a sight of " Ellen's Isle " 
did not suffice to make us unmindful of the Scotch 
mist which was gathering about us. It seemed as 
if we were destined to crowd all possible atmos- 
pheric experiences into our short visit to bonny 
Scotland ; for the clear coldness of Edinburgh had 
been followed by the soft, sweet, sunny warmth of 
the sunset hour at Stirling, to be replaced next 



LOCH LOMOND. 351 

day by a shifting temperature as changeable as a 
woman's mood. When we landed from the steamer, 
and took our seats in the high wagon which was to 
transport us over the rough six miles between us and 
Loch Lomond, a smart shower came pouring down 
upon us, putting in requisition all the umbrellas, 
water-proof cloaks, and plaids which the party could 
muster. But when people travel for pleasure, they 
endure with cheerful gayety what would be martyr- 
dom to them under other circumstances ; so we all 
laughed at the rain-drops, and peeped out from 
under the umbrellas at the prospect, while the 
water trickled from the tips of our noses. By the 
time we reached Loch Lomond the weather was 
again tolerably clear, and we glided over the lake 
very peacefully, able to sit on deck and watch the 
mists go trooping up the hill, like vanquished armies. 
From the foot of the Loch a short railway — of 
which the chief recommendation is that it gives 
you a charming view of Dunbarton and its "cas- 
tled crag " — takes you to the banks of the Clyde ; 
a large steamer thence lands you at the big city of 
Glasgow. 

Glasgow is full of shops and factories, with now 
and then the relief of a pretty public square, and, 
removed from the business part of the city, where 
the hotels are situated, there are fine streets laid 
out for residences. We confined our explorations 



352 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

to the portion more immediately about us, and spent 
a day pleasantly among the picture-shops and in the 
public streets. 

Once more in a night train, we rushed off at top 
speed for Liverpool, where we arrived at five in 
the morning. Taking breakfast at the Adelphi, (a 
locality familiar to everybody who has crossed the 
Atlantic,) we decided to accumulate sufficient fa- 
tigue to make us fully appreciate the inactivity of 
the life on board ship we were so soon to commence, 
and indulge ourselves with a trip into North Wales. 
So in three hours we were again in the cars, stop- 
ping at the ancient city of Chester, famous as hav- 
ing been besieged by Cromwell. We explored com- 
pletely the vast old Cathedral, which has seen so 
many changes, and which Cromwell made use of as 
a stable for his horses. It is a splendid old edifice ; 
it bears the scars which time has inflicted on it 
with dignity, and seems above and beyond desecra- 
tion. We resumed our seats in the cars in a couple 
of hours, and pushed on for Bangor and the Tubular 
Bridge over the Menai Strait, our ultimate destina- 
tion. 

The road passes through the most enchanting and 
various scenery. Eor a while the track winds with- 
in a stone's throw of the sea, which comes solemnly 
up the shore, seeming to rebuke, with its deep mon- 
otone, the noisy vociferation of the engine. On the 



THE TUBULAR BRIDGE. 353 

other side, rising abruptly from the narrow strip of 
level ground which sometimes nature and some- 
times art furnishes for the railway, there are huge 
precipitous crags of dark slate rock, which frown 
upon you as you fly by. Anon a fair and verdant 
valley lies sleeping at the foot of the hills, and you 
fain would rest there for a little while, and revel in 
the utter isolation it offers you ; but while you are 
longing, the scene shifts, and you plunge into a 
dark ravine, where the mists that gather on the 
hill-tops give you a sprinkling as you pass, and 
where you are deafened with the reverberations from 
the rocks. This conducts you to a long tunnel of 
Egyptian darkness, through which resounds the 
shrill whistle of the engine, till your ears are ago- 
nized into insensibility. Emerging from this dis- 
agreeable state of things, there beams upon you a 
sunny little nook, in which a little stone cottage 
shelters itself among its wealth of hay-ricks, often 
much higher than itself, or a cosey hamlet, which 
seems to " snuggle " its houses together, as if afraid 
of those bold, black hills. We have seen nothing, 
since leaving Switzerland, so picturesque as this 
day's ride. 

The Tubular Bridge is a wonderful structure, 
and in its construction involves, as such mechan- 
ical successes always do, a very simple principle, 
carried out into grandeur by the immense scale on 

30* w 



354 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

which it is cast, and the great results its achieve- 
ment brings about. We viewed it from the shore, 
above which it looms vast and ponderous, resting on 
its huge piers, which stand like feudal towers on 
their solid base. I could give many figures involv- 
ing the length, height, breadth of the bridge, and 
data of construction, time occupied in building, &c, 
&c. ; but really, with the bridge before me to turn 
to every moment, I found the figures in my book so 
puzzling, and productive of so much injury to the 
picturesque effect, that I was glad to shut up my 
description, and enjoy the beautiful whole without 
disturbing myself with " girders " and " braces," 
or heights or lengths. We walked into it, and 
examined its great strength. It reminded me of 
some fabulous dragon, whose mighty coat of scaly 
mail was impervious to sword-cut or spear-thrust, 
magnified in this instance into supernatural dimen- 
sions, and guarding, not a palace with a sleeping 
beauty in it, but a vast country with its hoards of 
wealth. The amount of freight carried over this 
bridge is astonishing. I hardly believed there were 
so many head of cattle in all Victoria's realm as we 
were assured were transported weekly over this 
bridge. A little distance farther up the Strait is 
one of the handsomest suspension bridges in the 
world, hanging lightly and almost tremulously over 
the gulf. These two bridges, viewed from above, 



BANGOR. 355 

make fine points for the eye to rest on, as it travels 
over the wide landscape. Returning to Bangor, 
about three miles behind us, we took dinner, and 
spent several hours in exploring the green village, 
laughing every time we heard the uncouth Welsh 
dialect. The greater part of the town seemed to 
consist of a long, straggling sort of street, the 
houses and shops about two centuries behind the 
age ; at intervals some mansion belonging to the 
gentry was visible through an opening, holding 
itself aloof from vulgar contaminations, or some 
pretty cottage, covered with woodbine or climbing 
roses, spoke of a pleasant home. Returning by rail, 
we reached Liverpool at eleven in the evening. A 
day and a night of continued travelling was no trifle, 
and I stranded on the shore of my bed at the Adel- 
phi, a complete wreck. The next day, in which I 
had intended to " do " Liverpool, was spent in un- 
broken communion with my pillow, and in endeavors 
to get the fragments of my " physique " into a suf- 
ficiently compact state for crossing the Atlantic. 

Next morning, however, brought some slight 
renewal of strength, and a walk through some of 
the streets enabled me to see all that circumstances 
allowed of the busy and flourishing city. At twelve 
we were driven to the wharf, put on board a small 
steamer, and conveyed down the river to the good 
steamer "Pacific." Our exultation was great at 



356 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

ascertaining that, in spite of our negligence in mak- 
ing arrangements in Paris at an early date, we were 
really to luxuriate in one of the best state-rooms on 
board. At half past four the signal gun was fired, 
and, with a full complement of passengers, we start- 
ed on our way. 

Then followed the ceaseless jarring of machinery, 
the creaking of timbers, the rolling of the vessel, 
and the rushing of winds and waters. Then, too, 
for most on board, came the hideous nightmare of 
sensation, sea-sickness. So important a part of the 
voyage is this to all who suffer, that to one who 
performs it without this experience, the trip is very 
much like the play of Hamlet with the role of the 
Prince of Denmark omitted. For the greater part 
of the ten days which we were upon the water, the 
sea was terribly rough ; and the September gale, 
which we feared we might encounter, had pre- 
ceded us just long enough to prepare for us a con- 
tinuous swell. The leaping and plunging of the 
steamer over the huge waves was wearisome to 
mind and body ; her onward motion was, however, 
modified a little by a rotary movement, (caused 
probably by the narrow build of the vessel,) which 
swung us under and over as if we were following 
the windings of a colossal corkscrew. Some of the 
passengers kept up their energy and their appetites 
through the whole, however. Performances of all 



THE VOYAGE HOME. 357 

sorts were undertaken to while away time, and one 
evening we even had a lecture from a reverend gen- 
tleman on board, upon the crowned heads of Europe 
and the meaning of the war. But how could peo- 
ple feel much interest in crowned heads, when their 
own were laid low in mortal anguish ? — or how 
should the aspect of a distant war move those who 
had a Crimea, a Black Sea, and a blowing up of 
Sebastopol in nearly every state-room ? I need 
hardly say that the lecture was thinly attended, and 
that the chief reflections it awakened in my mind 
were caused by the gyrations which the speaker was 
obliged to make as the sea pitched and tossed in un- 
certain motion. 

Still the ocean has its charms, and the voyage its 
pleasures. My romantic friends will pardon me if I 
mention among them an excellent appetite, by which 
the exhaustion of land travelling was rapidly re- 
paid. We make great runs each day, and count 
the miles with ever-fresh interest. Some of the pas- 
sengers are very agreeable people, and social inter- 
course grows pleasant. The vessel is commodious, 
the weather, in spite of the wind and heavy sea, 
pleasant, and we are drawing near home every day. 

At last our eager eyes see land, — not the faint, 
shadowy cloud which we were told was Cape Race, 
the day that we passed where the poor Arctic lies, 
but the solid shore of Long Island. Though we 



358 HIGHWAYS OF TRAVEL. 

gave the tribute of a sigh to the Arctic, we had no 
presage of the fate which awaited, in little more 
than a month, the vessel we ourselves were in, and 
which flew over the waters as if no thought of 
danger could come near her. We crowd on sail 
and steam, for our captain is a daring sailor, and we 
have done so well that we must make a short voyage 
of it. Sometimes it has seemed as if we were more 
likely to run under than over the waves ; but on the 
evening of the tenth day we are off Sandy Hook. 
Here we have to stay all night, in a state of mild ex- 
asperation at finding no pilot ; are nearly run into 
by a big ship, for the night is very dark ; but at last 
welcome a bright and sunny morning. The pilot 
comes, we go gallantly up the harbor, the forts sa- 
lute us, the tedious formalities of the custom-house 
are at length over without detriment to us or our 
belongings, and we rush for the St. Nicholas, glad 
to be once more at home in America. 

We bid farewell to our fellow-passengers, those 
we knew best having agreed to dine together at the 
hotel ; take a walk on Broadway, and compare our 
own big city with those we have seen abroad, and 
conclude that, for a comparatively new thing, New 
York need not be ashamed of herself; and so the 
voyage is over, the home-life beckons us, and Europe 
with its sights and sounds grows dream-like, — and 
the summer is a thing of the past. 



INDEX. 



Abelard and Heloise, Tomb of, at 

Pere la Chaise, 111. 
Alhambra Court, (the,) repro- 
duced, 338. 
Alpine Passes, 208, 237. 
Alps, 188, 236. 
" Dangers of crossing, 241. 
" Descent of, 254. 
" Hospices among, 240. 
° Passes of the, 237. 
" Storm among, 257. 
" View from La Flegere, 259. 
America represented at the Expo- 
sition, 58, 59. 
Amsteg, 207. 
Amsterdam, 154. 

" Fockink's Curacoa Manu- 
factory at, 156. 
" Museum, 156. 
" Stadt-House, 155. 
" to Arnheim, 156. 
Antoinette (Marie), 73. 

" Marriage of, 42. 

" Memories of, 283. 

Antwerp, Bourse, 139. 
' ; Cathedral, 137. 
" Church of St. Jacques, 

138. 
" Docks, 139. 
" from Brussels, 136. 
" to Rotterdam, 139. 
Armor in the Tower of London, 308. 
Arnheim, 157. 
Art, Assyrian, 338. 
" at Hampton Court, 322. 
" at Sydenham, 334. 
" Attractions of Paris, 286. 
" Dutch and Flemish, 147. 
" Egyptian, 336. 
" Greek, 334. 
" Moorish, 338. 

" Objects of, in the Exposition, 
58. 



Art, Works of,at Stafford House,315. 
Assyrian Art, 338. 
Avalanche, an, 251. 

Baden-Baden, 186. 

Barberini, 247. 

Barentin, Viaduct of, 25. 

Basle, 193. 

Baths at Wiesbaden, 178. 

Baveno, 228. 

Beethoven, Statue of, 166. 

Beggars, importunity of, 1£3. 

" in London, 325. 

" in Paris, 325. 
Bella, Isola, 224. 
Bellinzona, 210. 
Bethman Museum, 180. 
Bingen, 174. 
Blanc, Mont, 248. 
" Albert Smith's Ascent, 309. 
" Last view of, 262. 
Blue Moselle, 172. 
Bohemian Glass, 281. 
Bonaparte (Joseph), burning of 

flags, 68. 
Bonn, 166. 
Books of Travel, their publication 

defended, 4. 
Borromeo, Counts of, Palace, 225. 
Bougival, Village of, 99. 
Boulogne, 292. 
Brera Gallery, Milan, 217. 
British Channel, crossing the, 291. 
British Museum, 315. 
Brumaire, the 18th, 45. 
Brussels, 127. 

" Book-stalls, 132. 

" Cathedral of St. Gudule, 
129. 

" Festival at, 126. 

" from Paris, 123. 

" to Antwerp, 136. 

" Zoological Gardens, 132. 



360 



INDEX. 



Canova's Statue of Napoleon I., 213. 
Carlsruhe, 186. 
Cartoons of Raphael, 322. 
Castle of Edinburgh, 348. 
Castle of Heidelberg, 185. 
Castle of the Dukes of Baden, 187. 
Cathedral of Cologne, 163. 
Chamouni, 249, 255, 259. 
Charles II., Beauties of the Court 

of, 322. 
Chateau des Fleurs, 277. 
Cholera in Italy, 219. 
Climate of Italy unhealthy, 219. 
Clover, a rare sight, 262. 
Coblentz, 167, 172. 
Cologne, 163. 

" Shops, 165. 
Como, 210, 218. 

Corday, Charlotte, picture of, 70. 
Chester, 352. 

Cornelissen, Count, mansion of, 130. 
Coronation Robes of Napoleon I., 78. 
Cromwell at Chester, 352. 
Crossing the Channel, 291. 
Crown Jewels in the Tower of 

London, 309. 
Crystal Palace at Sydenham, 328. 
Custom-House Troubles, 297. 

Dangers of Mountain Travel, 242. 

Delinquent Passenger, 6. 

Departure, 7. 

De Ruyter, Sword of, 147. 

Descent of the Alps, 254. 

Deutz, 162. 

Devil's Bridge, 207. 

Diligence Travel, pleasures of, 233, 

261. 
Dinner at the Cafe Guichard, 21. 

" the first, on board the 

Steamer, 9. 
Disembarkation, preparations for, 

16. 
Distance, reckoned in time, not 

miles, 179. 
Donkeys, 169. 

Dreariness of the Alpine region, 208. 
Dresden China, 281. 
Duomo d'Ossola, 232. 
Dusseldorf, 158. 

" to Cologne, 162. 
Dutch and Flemish Art, 147. 

Edinburgh, 344. 

" to Stirling, 348. 



Egyptian Art, 336. 

Ehrenbreitstein, 167, 172. 

Eleven Thousand Virgins, Church 

of, 164. 
Employments on board ship, 14. 
Enamel Painting at Geneva, 267. 
English Channel, 16. 

" Language, its tenacity of 

life, 181. 
" Railways, 342. 
" SceneiT, 299. 
" Turf, 331. 
Excitements and dangers of cross- 
ing the Alps, 241. 
Exhilarating effect of mountain 
air, 250. 

Faido, 209. 

Flowers, beauty and abundance 
of, in France, 26. 

Fluelen, 205, 209. 

Folkestone, 297. 

Fountains at Sydenham, 331. 
" at Versailles, 47. 

Frankfort, 179. 

" to Homberg, 182. 

French invasion of England phys- 
ically impossible, 296. 

Gambling at Baden-Baden, 188. 

" at Wiesbaden, 177. 
Gardens at S3 r denham, 330. 
Geneva, 263, 265. 
Glacier du Bois, 251. 
Glasgow, 351. 

Gobelin Tapestries, at St. Cloud, 97. 
Goethe, reminiscences of, 180. 
Grampian Hills. 349. 
Greek Art, 334.' 

" Chapel at Wiesbaden, 175. 
Gutenberg, Monument to, 193. 

Hague, the, 146. 

" Bazaar Royal, 151. 

" Palace in the Wood, 151. 

" Palace of Prince Frederick, 
149. 

" Palace of William II., 146. 

" Royal Museum, 146. 

" Steengracht's private Pic- 
ture Gallery, 150. 

" to Amsterdam, 153. 
Hampton Court, 321. 
Havre, Citv of, 21. 

" Port of, 18. 



INDEX. 



361 



Heidelberg, 184. 

Hofgarten of Dusseldorf, 160. 

Holland, Farewell to, 157. 

Holyrood Palace, 346. 

Homberg, 183. 

Home again, 358. 

Hospices among the Alps, 240. 

Hotel Bill, intricacies and astonish- 
ing total, 22. 

Hotels, extortions practised at, 1S2. 

Hot Springs at Wiesbaden, 175. 

House, what constitutes a ''nice" 
one, 159. 

Houses, lofty, in Edinburgh, 345. 

Impositions of Landlords, 182. 
Italian Inns, 211. 

Jackson, Portrait of, at Versailles, 

282. 
Japanese Curiosities at the Hague, 

146. 
Jewelry and Watches at Geneva, 

265/ 
Jews' Quarter at Frankfort, 181. 
Josephine and Hortense, Tombs of, 

98. 
Jura, Approach towards the, 262. 

Katrine, Loch, 349. 

Kean, Mr. and Mrs., 310. 

Kur Saal at Baden-Baden, 187. 

" at Homberg, 184. 

" at Wiesbaden, 177. 

Lace Manufactory, Brussels, 131. 
La Flegere, Summit of Mount, 257. 
Landlords, impositions of, 182. 
Laveno, Village of, 221. 
Leman, Lake, 263, 266. 
Liverpool, 355. 
Lombardy, 211, 217. 
Lomond, Loch, 351. 
London, Approach to, 299. 

" Arrival at, 301. 

" Bank of England, 306. 

" British Museum, 315. 

" Buckingham Palace, 313. 

" Docks, 310. 

" Elgin Marbles, 316, 335. 

" Fees expected by servi- 
tors, 308. 

" Hyde Park, 314. 

" Immensity of, 301. 

" Looks of the people, 328. 

31 



London, Palace of St. James, 312. 
" Pictures at the Stafford 

House, 315. 
" Portland Vase, 316. 
" Regent's Park, 312. 
" Eoval Exchange, 306. 
" Roval Stables, 313. 
" St." George's Chapel, 320. 
" St. Paul's Church, 305. 
" Shopping, 323. 
" Stafford House, 315. 
" Storr and Mortimer's, 315. 
" Street Beggars, 325. 
" Thames Tunnel, 311. 
" Thames, Vaults under the, 

310. 
" Tower, 307. 
" to Edinburgh, 342. 
" Tussaud's (Madame)Wax- 

Work, 316. 
" Weather, 302. 
" Westminster Abbey, 303. 
" Windsor Castle, 319. 
" Zoological Gardens, 312. 
Lucerne, 195. 

" Lake of, 196, 197. 

Madre, Isola, 223. 

Maggiore, Lake, 221. 

Malmaison, Chateau of, 99. 

Mantes, 35. 

Martyrs' Monument at Edinbui'gh, 

346. 
Mary Queen of Scots, 347. 
Mavence, 179. 
Meiiai Strait, 352. 
Mer de Glace, 252. 
Milan, 211. 

" Cathedral, 213. 
Montanvert, 251, 253. 
Mont Blanc, 248. 

Last and finest view 
of, 262. 
Moorish Art, 338. 
Moore, Sir Thomas, Cell at the 

Tower of London, 309. 
Mules, instinct and skill of, 252, 254. 
Munday, Sergeant, the Waterloo 

Guide, 133. 

Napoleon I., Coronation of, 46. 

" Coronation robes of, 

78. 
Remains of, at the In- 
valides, 08. 



INDEX. 



Napoleon I., Statue of, bv Canova, 
213. 
" Triumphal Arch erect- 

ed by, at Milan, 217. 
Napoleon III., his immense energy, 
93. 
" his wonderful career, 

53. 
Nationality of the Steamer passen- 
gers, 8. 
Nelson's Monument at Edinburgh, 

344. 
Night Ride to Edinburgh, 343. 
Nineveh reproduced, 338. 
New York, 358. 

Opera at Paris, 107. 
Orleans, Duke of, 117. 

Pacific (Steamer), 355. 
Paris, Appartements Meubles, 51. 
" Approach to, at night, 101. 
" Arrival of the Queen and 

cortege, 272. 
" Attractions of, 285. 
" Beggars on church steps, 83. 
" Bois de Boulogne, 114. 
" Boulevards, 39. 
" Champ de Mars, review of 

troops, 274. 
" Champs Elysees, 63, 116. 
" Cheap shops, 89. 
" Churches, 37, 71, 72, 74, 76, 

80, 81, 82, 84, 93, 117. 
" Cirque de l'lmperatrice, 62. 
" Column of July, 93. 
" Conciergerie, 73. 
" Crowded state of, 270. 
" Decorations for the fete, 271. 
" Exposition Universelle, 53 et 

seq. Visited by the Queen, 

274. 
" from Geneva, over the Jura, 

268. 
" Giroux, Variety Store of, 281. 
" Gobelin Tapestrv, manufac- 
tory of, 104. 
" Gorgeous display at the 

Queen's departure, 275. 
" Hippodrome, the, 109. 
" Hotel de Cluny, 103. 
" Hotel des Invalides, 67. 
" Hotel de Ville, 107. 
" Jardin des Plantes, 105. 
" " Latin " Quarter, 92. 



Paris, Libraries, 286. 
" Louvre, 118. 
" Luxembourg Palace, 69. 
" Madeleine, Church of the, 

37, 93. 
" Morgue, the, 75. 
" Notre Dame, Cathedral of, 

76. 
" Notre Dame de Lorette, 

Church of, 82. 
" Opera, 107. 
" Palais de Justice, 73. 
" Palais des Beaux Arts, 59. 
" Palace of the Chamber of 

Deputies, 66. 
" Palais Royal, 38. 
" Pantheon," 83. 
" Place de Greve, 108. 
" Place de la Bastille, 93. 
" Place de la Concorde, 37. 
" Preparing for the visit of 

Queen Victoria, 270. 
" Queen Victoria's visit to, 

272, et seq. 
" Quiet of the streets at night, 

50. 
" Railway Station, quiet of, 35. 
" Rue de Rivoli, 53, 92. 
" Rue du Temple, 92. 
" Return to, 269. 
" Roman Baths, ruins of, 104. 
" Sainte Chapelle, 74. 
" Ste. Elizabeth of Hungary, 

Church of, 82. 
" St. Etienne du Mont, Church 

of, 84. 
" St. Eustache, Church of, 81. 
" St. Ferdinand, Chapel of, 117. 
" St. Germain l'Auxerrois, 

Church of, 80. 
" St. Roch, Church of, 72. 
" St. Sulpice, Church of, 71. 
" Shopping experiences, 88, 

323. 
" Sumptuous preparations for 

the Queen, 273. 
" Theatre des Varietes, 37. 
" Theatre Francais, 119. 
" to Brassels, 123. 
" to London, 289. 
" Tower of St. James, 81. 
" Tuileries Gardens, 37, 52. 
" " Palace, 37. 

" Variety Store of A. Giroiix, 

281. 



INDEX. 



363 



Parisian Crowd, characteristics of, 
101. 

" Dinner, 36. 

" Police, 271. 
Passes of the Alps, 237. 
Pere la Chaise, 110. 
Pescatore. Isola del, 228. 
Pilatus, Mount, 196. 
Pius VII., Visit to Paris, 78. 
Poissy, Village of, 35. 
Polk (James K.), Portrait of, at 

Versailles, 282. 
Potter, Paul, Paintings by, 147, 156. 
Preparing to depart, 5. 

Queen's Visit to Paris, 274 et seq. 

Rachel, 119. 

Railway from Havre to Rouen, 23. 
Railway Travelling in England, 
342. 
" " in France, 125. 

Railways in France, admirable 

management of, 26. 
Raphael's Cartoons, 322. 
Rembrandt's Paintings, 148, 156. 
Repose, the delicious feeling of, 

aboard ship, 10. 
Rhine, 158, 166, 194. 
Rhone, the, 266. 

" Valley of the, 243. 
Kighi, Mount, 196. 
" Ascent of, 198. 
" View from summit, 200. 
" Descent from, 203. 
Ristori, Madame, 119, 277. 
Robespierre, 73. 
Romish Worship, 95. 
Rotterdam, Arrival at, 141. 
" Museum, 143. 

" St. Lawrence, Church 

of, 143. 
" to the Hague, 145. 

Rouen, Cathedral of Notre Dame, 
30. 
" Church of Notre Dame de 

bon Secours, 33. 
" Church of St. Maclon, 31. 
" Church of St. Ouen, 28 — 

by moonlight, 32. 
" Drive about the Citv, 33. 
" Flower Market, 32. 
" Hotel d'Angleterre, 26. 
" Mount St. Catharine, 33. 
" Museum of Antiquities, 31. 



Rouen, Pont Neuf, 32. 

" to Paris, 35. 

" Tour de Bourse, 31. 
Rubens, Altar-Piece by, 165. 

" Descent from the Cross, 
137. 

" Tomb, 138. 
Rueil, 98. 

St. Bernard Dogs, 240. 

St. Cloud, 95. 

St. Gothard, Pass of, 206. 

St. Louis, 74. 

St. Peter's Church, Cologne, 165. 

Sallenches from Chamouni, 260. 

San Carlos Borromeo, 214. 

Santa Maria delle Grazie, Church 

of, Milan, 216. 
Scheldt, aquatic view of, 140. 
Sebastopol Besieged, at the Paris 

Hippodrome, 109. 
Sevres Porcelain at St. Cloud, 97. 
" " manufactory of, 

279. 
Scotland, 343. 
Scott's Monument, 345. 
Shopping in Paris, 88, 323. 

" in London, 324. 
Shops at Cologne, 165. 

" at Wiesbaden, 176. 
Simplon, Crossing the, 235. 
Smith's (Albert) Ascent of Mont 

Blanc, 309. 
States-General, opening of, 46. 
Stolzenfels, 169. 
Storm among the Alps, 257. 

" at sea, 11. 
Strasburg, 191. 

" Cathedral, 188, 191. 
Street Beggars, 325. 
Sunday in Pai'is, 112. 
Sunrise from Mount Righi, 201. 
Swiss Guards, Monument to, 196. 
Sydenham Palace, 328. 

Taunus Mountains, 176. 

Tell's Chapel, 204. 

Tete Noire, 247. 

Thorwaldsen's Monument to the 

Swiss Guai'ds, 196. 
Tombs of Josephine and Hortense, 

98. 
Travel, fatigue of, 64. 
Traveller, each, sees something 

new, 2. 



364 



INDEX. 



Traveller should " read up " in 

advance, 3. 
Travellers, hastv conclusions of, 

290. 
Travelling, method in, 173. 

" the rale of life, 1. 

Trianon, the, 283. 
Trosachs, the, 349. 
Tubular Bridge over Menai Strait, 

352. 

Valenciennes, 125. 

Van Tromp, cuirass of, 147. 

Versailles, 40, 95. 

" Ball given to Victoria 

at, 274. 

" Farewell visit to, 282. 

Viaducts and Tunnels, great num- 



ber of, between Havre and Rouen, 
25. 
Victoria's (Queen) arrival at Paris, 
272. 
" Departure from Paris, 275. 
Victoria Regia, the, 333. 
Vosges Mountains, 186, 188. 
Voyage home, 356. 

Watches and Jewelry at Geneva, 

265. 
Waterloo, Field of, 133. 
Webster, Portrait of, at Versailles, 

282. 
Weggis, Lake, 197. 
Wellington Statue, 314. 
Wiesbaden, 174. 
Wolfsbrunnen, 186. 



THE END. 



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